Young Warriors (Wine of the Gods Book 10)

by Pam Uphoff

  "It would be nice to be a bit more than barely competent, though."

  Xen grinned. "In three months, you will be."

  Garit nodded. "They don't send us out until we're assets instead of liabilities. Why are you doing this, Asti? You know you're going to be an academician like your father."

  "He's always said that his travels and field explorations in the Old World were the most eye opening experiences he'd ever had, and it was a pity he didn't have them until three quarters of his career was over. So I figured I'd get some traveling in early."

  That started them speculating on just where they might be sent for their rotations.

  "With only six months in each Fort, we won't go overseas. Pity, I'd like to see the Old World." Dominic stared west as if he could see the ocean and the land beyond.

  "I want to see the Earther's observatory." Garit said. "I've used little telescopes."

  Asti nodded. "The University keeps talking about building a really big observatory on Mount Jasco, but they never seem to want to pony up the money and get started."

  Baylor sneered. "You don't really believe those wild tales about people 'from another world' do you?"

  Xen kept his mouth shut.

  ***

  Garit hauled himself out of bed, stifling a groan. I will not be sent back as too young. I will not. I cannot stand another day of Rebo and his damned . . . everything.

  At least the shower was hot enough to relax some of his still tired muscles.

  They saddled up early . . . Old Gods. Lances. He grit his teeth. I am big enough and strong enough. I will do this. His distant cousin from some nasty little village fumbled a bit with his lance. Good. Someone with less experience than me. At something. His sword work sure was nice. Maybe he won't be as embarrassing as I'd thought. He braced the lance as he'd been drilled for half his life, and lined up for the exercises. The cavalry as a whole didn't use the long lances of the armored knights, but a shorter version that was less unwieldy, if also closer range. First they practiced just holding the lance, tip up while riding all over. Then dropping the point, bracing the shaft and charging. Then charging at targets.

  The captain dryly commented that he was glad to see Lord Xen wasn't perfect after all, he was merely above average, after three hours of practice with a weapon he'd clearly never held before. Garit got a nod of approval.

  Then they did it all over again.

  Faster.

  Young Lords started hitting the ground. Even the perfect Xen dropped his reins and grabbed mane to stay on. If his horse hadn't cooperated, he'd have come off. Garit was jarred loose once, and lost his lance twice. Better than average.

  By afternoon, everyone was sore. So they formed up for coordinated charges.

  And were finally dismissed. To put up their horses.

  Garit moaned and leaned on Clowny. "Right. I can do this. You saved my ass twice, at least."

  "She likes you. Pyrite says she's pretty smart."

  Garit eyed his bumpkin cousin. "Your horse says? Old Gods. How far out in the country do you live?" He frowned suddenly. Xen had a mild glow, not nearly as much as a member of the royal family ought, but then he was related through the female line. He didn't glow as much as the witches Garit knew.

  The horses conferred through ear twitches, faint tilts of head and neck. Xen's liver chestnut nodded and both horses blew out tired breaths.

  Garit relaxed suddenly and laughed. "Yeah. Even I understood that. I think we're all tired. C'mon Clowny. You need a good brushing." The barn was warm, even though the sun had set, and smelled of horse sweat and was filled with clomping hooves and the jingle of cinch buckles and bits. A few tired jokes and laughs. Garit could feel himself relaxing, and brushed Clowny as she dried. I ought to have taken care of her myself, more often. Instead I always competed with Rebo for . . . hell, I don't even remember. To get through the door first? Get cleaned up and down to the dining room first? Whatever for?

  Xen led his gelding into his stall and walked back out, stretching. "I love barns." He pulled out a rag and started cleaning his tack. "I guess that's pretty hick."

  Garit laughed suddenly. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean I don't agree with you." He ran his hands down Clowny's legs. No heat or swelling or sign of soreness. He led her into the stall and released her. The rack was full of hay, water topped off. "The grooms aren't making us do everything."

  "Probably just the part we'd need to do on field maneuvers?" Xen didn't sound very sure.

  "Do you know, I haven't a clue about the practical part of that."

  Xen's teeth flashed. "Yeah, reading about battles is much more interesting than reading about setting up a picket line."

  He offered a bottle of oil and Garit started in on his tack. Not a bad cousin at all.

  ***

  Morning came way too soon, and was accompanied by much moaning and groaning. Xen tried to not contribute more than his fair share, and stretched sore muscles as he stumbled into the shower. He cheated by magically debearding his face, and crawled into his second uniform for breakfast.

  "Laundry, for you poor put upon Lords, involves depositing your dirty things in the bin at the door. Now I'm sure you've all marked your uniforms so you can find your own, right?" Captain Fulton curled an amused lip at the chorus of groans. And tapped an impatient foot as they tried to figure out how to manage that.

  Xen eyed his pen dubiously. Would it wash away . . . or make a horrible mess? He labeled his stuff minimally and where it wouldn't show if the ink ran. And put a tiny charm on each piece.

  Keith snickered. "Hey Garit, got the royal crest on your knickers?"

  Garit ignored him.

  Xen ignored the prince's flush. Not nearly as snotty as I thought a prince would be. He added his stuff to the growing heap in the big laundry baskets. Staff's going to be busy today.

  Instead of breakfast, they ran a mile. In full uniform and riding boots. Half the lords were limping as they trailed in to eat. Xen blessed his broken in boots, and wafted a few generalized healing spells around as they were hustled through the mess and back to the barn.

  "Saddle up, let's get out to the grounds before noon."

  Xen ran his hands over Pyrite. "How are you feeling?"

  :: Stiff. That was a lot of work, yesterday. Rub . . . yes, right there. ::

  Xen rubbed a knotted muscle until it relaxed, and then ran a quick all over massage. Then brushed and saddled Pyrite. He wasn't quite the last one out.

  Asti was last, with a new horse. "Suzy was dead lame this morning. Poor girl hasn't had to work like that for years." He cocked his head as the captain raised his voice.

  "How could you brush, saddle, and lead a horse out without noticing he was stocked up and dead lame? Take him back to his stall. Inform the Head groom that the vet needs to take a look at him, and that you need a replacement mount for today, if not longer."

  An uneasy stir down the line. Everyone checked their own horses while Lieutenant Gannis led his mount back to the barn.

  "Mount up and walk them in a circle around me."

  Two more young lords were sent after him. Then they walked for a couple of miles, trotted a few minutes, walked back to the barn and put their mounts up.

  ***

  Classroom. Books.

  Garit sighed. "I thought I was done with this nonsense."

  A different captain raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid you were wrong. Now, how many of you have heard the new, revised history of the world?"

  About half the hands rose.

  The captain pointed. "You are?"

  "Lieutenant Wolfson, sir."

  "Uh huh. Give me a brief history of this world. The new version."

  "Our ancestors were exiled from a world called Earth, although being parallel worlds they're all properly Earth, just . . . err, sorry. Our ancestors settled in a long strip north of the equator, on the continents on the other side of the world. Three hundred and thirty-nine years afterwards, the world was struck by a comet. Nearly everyo
ne was killed. Only a few settlements on this side of the world survived. One of those cities, a large town actually, was Scoone. Cadent in what is now Verona and Fascia and Discordia in Auralia. Some ships, with crews and families somehow survived, and later settled in the Cove Islands.

  "The Kingdom of the West was settled by a combination of pioneers from Scoone and Cadent, incorporating a few people living here already, all according to the Charter." Xen paused. "Do you want wars and things? They didn't change much."

  The captain snorted. "Not as much as your teachers changed what you ought to have been taught."

  Garit quailed as he was on the receiving end of the pointing finger.

  "And tell me, Lieutenant Negue, about these exiles."

  "They were magic. The normal people of Earth were afraid of them and expelled them. They and their families, many of them normal themselves, are our ancestors. Between natural and man made disasters, the magic traits have mostly died out."

  Asti got the finger.

  "And what about the Old Gods?"

  "The most powerful of the Exiles. Immortal, and very strongly magic." His nose wrinkled. "My father claims they were able to divert that comet eleven years ago. Or at least, most of it. Lots of pieces impacted in the southern hemisphere, killing thousands."

  The captain nodded. "Not bad. Between the three of you, you managed something close to the current gospel. Mind you, I don't believe a word of it. Which is why I'm only allowed to teach you the military history of the last four hundred years."

  Which he proceeded to do.

  Garit listened carefully, but couldn't find any changes in that part. Which he'd heard of, over and over. Heck, what even Uncle Rufi wasn't old enough to have seen himself, the old general had heard about first hand from the retired Spears who'd fought in those wars. And the old general's tall tales had been outrageous enough that Garit had never had any trouble differentiating between his war stories and his fairy tales.

  They broke for lunch.

  Dominic snorted as they walked out. "What utter rubbish." He looked back at Asti. "Do you actually believe in the Old Gods? I mean, they're handy to swear by, and the myths are fun for kids, but real, living gods? Alive today? Oh, please!" His glare was mostly aimed at Xen. "What are you grinning about, you backwoods bumpkin?"

  Xen widened his eyes. "Oh, but t'gods are real! All us country folk know 'bout uncanny stuff like tat! Witches! Wizards! Mages! Gods!" All in the broadest country accent imaginable.

  He even beat Easterly's accent. Of course, Easterly's is the real thing. My favorite of the guards. He actually whipped Rebo's ass. Old Gods, I wish I'd seen that! Then they sent him off to be an Embassy guard. Not fair.

  Dominic threw up his hands and stalked away to sit with some other young nobles. Garit wound up sitting with Xen on one side and Lester on the other. Asti was beyond Xen, and they started talking about, arg! The Old Gods. As if they both believed.

  Lester sneered. "Pair of softies. La de Da. Probably members of the Church of Ba'al."

  Asti shook his head. "Based loosely on the God of Virtue. Hard though that is to believe."

  "You are actually gullible enough to think they're all alive?"

  Xen nodded his head. "So far as I know. Mind you, some of them haven't been seen for awhile. They're missing in action, so to speak."

  "Old Gods, you're stupid."

  Xen choked on a mouthful of water, burst out laughing.

  Lester's chair went back with a crash. His hand went to his sword. "Are you laughing at me?"

  Xen tried to speak around giggles. "Did you even hear what you said? 'Old Gods you're stupid to believe in the Old Gods?' Damn right I'm laughing. Funny how old habits trip us . . . "

  Lester grabbed him and hauled him away from the table. "Draw your sword, you little creep. I'll show you funny . . . "

  Xen reached and grabbed the big serving fork from the meat platter.

  Everyone froze in shock as he faced the red faced Lester and came on guard with the fork.

  "You dare laugh at me?" Lester whipped his sword out and lunged.

  Xen caught the blade between tines of the fork and twisted his hand. Lester tugged, twisted his own hand and got his blade loose. He attacked again. Xen parried, backed away. The other lords scrambled to get out of the way. Xen diverted a low lunge into the floor and held it there with the fork. Lester cursed and tugged, staggered backwards as Xen released the sword. Then Xen attacked.

  Rapped Lester's knuckles with the fork, and withdrew with blinding speed, diverted Lester's riposte into the wall. A long score in the plaster.

  Xen took a high guard position. Absurd, the fork poised over his head.

  And Gannis hesitated.

  Snickers from the watchers. Who turned and glared at someone rudely pushing them . . .

  "What is going on here!" A nasty snap to that. Captain Fulton's eyes glinted, his lips thinned as he spotted Lester's sword.

  Xen turned, and lowered the fork. Waved it around a bit. "Err, sorry, sir, just being a bit silly."

  The captain's eyes fell on Xen's sword, hanging on his belt. Obviously not being used. "Silly? Lord Gannis could have easily injured your hand 'playing' with a bloody damned FORK! Sit down. Both of you. Gannis. Don't let me ever see you pulling a sword on a comrade. Ever. Do. You. Under. Stand. Me?"

  Lester paled, then flushed. Squirmed. "Yes, sir." He stepped back, fumbled and sheathed his sword. Sat.

  Xen sat.

  Reached out and speared a slice of roast beef with the fork.

  The room was deathly silent as the captain stalked back to the senior officers' table.

  The young lords were all sneaking looks at Xen. Puzzled looks. Thoughtful looks. Not one of them failed to realize who had been in complete control of that fight.

  With a fork a third the length of the sword.

  That was . . . amazing. And I don't know what is stranger. Xen's ability to do that—or Xen thinking to do that. If he'd drawn his sword, if that had been definitely a duel, Lester would have been sent off. Possibly both of them dismissed. Xen was thinking. And while he's still keeping an eye on Lester, he doesn't seem angry. He's watchful, but not really wary. He's just . . . above it all. Amused, but not rubbing it in.

  Wish I could shrug off Rebo like that!

  ***

  Gannis avoided him, after that.

  Unfortunately, the rest of the snooty crowd didn't.

  Captain Fulton had noted the undercurrents and made sure Xen had long sparring sessions with them. After which the verbal digs got worse. But any signs that one of them would actually challenge him to a duel disappeared.

  Which was a major relief. Xen concentrated on the book lessons and enjoyed the physical work.

  "How can you look like you are enjoying digging ditches?" Garit surveyed their progress, and attacked the next section.

  "What, nice cool fall weather, work where you can see the progress being made?" Xen cleared his throat. "Gets me out of the classroom."

  Garit laughed at that. "I thought I'd never have to study again. Har. Har."

  Asti shook his head. "You both do well enough to impress the professors." He pulled off his gloves and inspected his blisters. "It's all I'm good at."

  Xen snorted. "It's not that I'm not curious and all that. I just thought I'd gone past the sit-down-reading-and-lecturing type of learning."

  "Yeah. That's it, exactly." Garit looked over at Asti. "Aren't you ready to escape the classroom and learn something through your own experiences—and knowing you, experimentation?"

  "Well, yes. But I'm woefully behind you two in preparation for that. I saw what Xen did to Baylor in practice yesterday, and Bay is supposed to be some sort of master swordsman."

  Xen flashed a grin. And checked that the others were out of hearing range. "I really ought not say anything about stylistic flourishes and sporting around for points as opposed to fighting. I'm in deep enough trouble with the snooty types already."

  Asti snickered. "Are
you a Lord? You are completely unknown here in Karista. 'Wolfson? Never heard of the name.' That's all I ever hear."

  "Oh yeah. Dad stays out of politics as much as possible. But since he's the Land Grant Holder, section two, Foothills, I guess I'm a Lord."

  "Foothills . . . I've heard the Governor has trouble getting half of the Land Grant Holders to even show up for meetings."

  "Yep. That's Dad. Thinks he ought not interfere."

  "Right, so you really are a Lord."

  Garit shook his head. "He's being modest. On his mother's side he's . . . a distant relative. If he was snooty, he'd be Prince Xen."

  "Oh, God, no! At least spare me that. Anyhow, I'm illegitimate."

  "Err, your parents never married? Or do you mean your royal ancestor didn't marry . . . "

  "Neither. No way. Witches do not marry."

  "Witches!" Asti perked up.

  Garit snickered. "And because that is the local custom—to not ever marry . . . "

  Asti grinned. "You are legitimate under the Charter."

  Xen rolled his eyes. "Uff! Trust me, it's much better to be thought a country bumpkin." And if I said my father was the God of War, most of them would laugh themselves sick, thinking me stupid enough to believe that. He started digging.

  "Witches, eh?" Asti pulled his gloves on and grabbed his shovel.

  ***

  By halfway through the training, Garit was surprised to find himself enjoying it. Up to it, in strength and endurance. He was no longer stiff in the morning, and had somehow lost that first indignant reaction to being ordered to do something that ought to have been beneath him. Clowny fined down and built muscles too. And pricked her ears at every exercise. For all her bulk, only Pyrite could outrun or out jump her.

  Over the three months they drilled on everything, and dug ditches and banks and erected defensive walls. And as soon as they'd finished making them, they had to either defend them or attack them. Then switch sides.