Dahral had been left in charge of a hundred troops in a large town. It was three towns later that Kalin’s turn came. The general met with him when they arrived.
“Lieutenant Zel’Andral, you’ll have fifty soldiers under your command. Do you have any special requests?”
“Sir, if I may, I would like all six of the female archers placed with me, sir.”
Colonel Zel’Freedan looked at him with a suspicious expression on his face, but simply asked, “Why?”
“Family history, sir. Great-Grandma Shalina was Lieutenant of Archers during her time with the Army, sir. I’ve heard talk,” he paused and bit his lips, then continued, “Sir, I’ve heard talk among the junior officers that any women they are assigned will be cook’s assistants the whole time we’re out, sir. I have more respect for women warriors than that.”
The general and colonel shared a glance, then the general nodded. “Considering who you’re descended from, you’d better. Very well, Lieutenant Zel’Andral, you’ll get all six female archers. We’ll take two of your infantrymen back. That leaves you with twenty-three infantry, six archers, ten cavalry, ten raiders, one cook, and you.”
Kalin came to attention and bowed. “We will protect Nestat Ford, sir.”
The general gave him a grin, then took the lead as the rest of their men prepared to continue on. Orders were being passed to all of the senior officers as to the disposition of their troops.
In the end, Kalin was left with his people and a supply wagon as the rest marched away. They weren’t left alone long.
“You there,” a tall, emaciated man in elegant clothing said as he strode up to the soldiers. “I’m Lord Serdal Zel’Densan. You’ll be taking orders from me now.”
Kalin simply said, “No.”
“What?! You insolent pup! I am Lord Mayor here!” the man shouted.
Kalin shook his head. “You are simply mayor, not lord mayor. We were briefed on who you were before we arrived. Even if you were a lord mayor, my troops and I would not be under your command.”
The sputtering mayor screamed, “Who in the five hells do you think you are?”
“Lieutenant Kalin Zel’Andral.” The mayor stood shocked still, until Kalin spoke again. Looks like a fish out of water now. “We will set camp on the north side of the river. We have a good supply of food, but occasionally we’ll be buying more. That will be all, Mayor Zel’Densan.” The mayor sputtered, then abruptly turned and strode away.
One of the Raiders asked, “Do you think that’s why you were left here, sir?”
Kalin nodded and said, “I’d put gold on that bet, Del’Carten. All right, people, north end of the bridge, east and west of the road. Archers, set your tents west of the road. Infantry, west. Raiders and Cavalry, east. Horses behind our tents. The cook wagon and tent, west. I will also be east. Stay back from the road, and dig a ditch for drainage in case it rains. And stay back from the river for the same reason.”
Everyone answered, “Yes, sir,” and headed across the bridge. Camp was set neatly, and if it took more than the regulation two spans, no one mentioned it. Kalin set up his own tent, and settled his stallion right behind it.
Their cook turned out to be as new to the army as Kalin, and more than a little bit overwhelmed. Kalin made his way to the cook wagon, and the poor man almost collapsed.
“Oh, sir, please don’t be angry,” the man pleaded. “It’ll be spans before I have anything ready.”
Kalin smiled and said, “As you were, private. What is your name?”
“Private Emilat Del’Frelan, Prince Kalin, sir.”
“Calm down, Private Del’Frelan. Just calm down. Major Fel’Varin gave you instructions. Do you remember them?”
“Yes, sir. I wrote them down.” He scrabbled in his pouch for a slip of parchment. “First make kava. Then start bread. Then start stew or beans. Then--”
“Very good,” Kalin interrupted. “Just do what the major told you to do and you’ll be fine. I came to ask if you need any help?”
The private looked startled, then bowed. “I could use a hand with cleanup after the meal, sir.”
Kalin nodded. “I’ll get you two helpers. Is that enough?”
The cook nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Kalin inspected the camp and nodded approvingly as he walked. The troopers were all in one-man tents to make them look like a bigger force. He was puzzled by a rope around six tents and stopped to stare at it. An infantryman answered his unasked question.
“Women’s country. No men allowed without permission. Not even you, sir.”
Kalin froze for a moment, then nodded. I know about that. Why was I surprised?
One of the archers came out and said, “Sir, Archers’ camp is ready for inspection, sir.”
Kalin nodded and said, “Very well, Corporal Fel’Havel. You and your archers are going to be stationed with cavalry in forward observation points. You’ll be our early warning scouts. If you see anything, shoot three signal-arrows and then ride pillion back to camp.”
The corporal looked surprised for an instant, then bowed. She looked behind her to find the other five women watching. “You lost that bet, Bana,” she said with a laugh.
“What bet?” Kalin asked.
“That we were all going to be in the mess tent until we go home, sir,” another woman answered.
“No, the infantrymen who are staying in camp as the reserve will be rotating through that duty. There are several advantages to having you women on this assignment.” He smiled at the looks the women were giving him. “You are all past your two years except Private Kel’Narvan. None of you has been a discipline problem. And all of you are lighter than any but the youngest male archers. Having you riding pillion behind the cavalrymen will be no burden for their horses.”
“So, we weren’t dropped on you, sir?” the corporal asked in a cautious tone.
Kalin smiled. “No, I requested you. Queen Shalina Zel’Andral, my great-grandmother, was a lieutenant of archers during her service. It’s been almost two hundred years since the time of Mary Death, but my family still honors women warriors.” All six women and a large percentage of the men nearby were nodding their understanding.
Morning found Kalin giving his troops their orders. “Archers, you know your assignment. You have fire arrows for when it’s dark, and whistlers for when it’s light. Just try not to set any crops on fire. Raiders and the remaining Cavalry, split into two seven-man teams and make a long circuit around the area. Infantry, you’ll remain in camp in case we’re presented with attackers that want to cross the river. And I need two men to help with the dishes after we eat.” That drew some laughter from the troops, but all Kalin could do was grin.
Kalin watched his troops disperse with an outwardly calm demeanor that hid his inner disquiet. He took a deep breath and went to his tent. It was there that the mayor and four old men found him.
Mayor Zel’Densan stopped outside Kalin’s tent and demanded, “Come out here at once, lieutenant.” When Kalin was facing them, the mayor spoke again. “What proof do you have that you are Prince Kalin?”
Before Kalin could think of an answer another of the men spoke. “I encountered Prince Kalin several years ago. I found him to be a charming boy. I don’t believe you’re him at all.”
“No, not at all,” another of the men said.
Kalin looked at the man who had spoken last. It took him a moment to recognize the man, then he got angry and said, “Leristan Zel’Tomal, you arrogant old ass.” He took a step toward the man as his hands balled into fists. “My mother had you escorted out of the palace because you insulted her taste in tapestries.” Don’t hit him. Don’t hit him. Don’t hit him.
“Why-Why-Why that’s not true!” the man all but cried.
“It is” Kalin replied softly. “Mom is still mad about it. That’s why you’ve been specifically banned from palace functions for the past three years.” Kalin moved closer and growled, “Those tapestried you didn’t
like were made by mom’s family, dating back to the time of Emperor Kestal Zel’Garvan. Her many-times great-grandfather.”
“Now see here!” the mayor all but shouted. “We are the Nestat Ford council. You report to us.”
Kalin looked at him and his eyes narrowed further. “No. Last year, you ordered the lieutenant stationed here to use his troops to build new gardens and out buildings for your pathetic little city hall. Dad put out a proclamation that troops are for your defense, not your personal construction projects.”
“We received no such proclamation!” the mayor shouted.
Kalin nodded. “Prove it.”
The mayor sputtered, then said, “I should challenge you!”
Now Kalin’s smile turned nasty. “Royal Protections. Challenging me would be an act of treason. But only your family will suffer. I’ll kill you where you stand.”
The rest of the councilors grabbed the mayor and hauled him toward the bridge. One of them shouted, “He issued no challenge! He only said he should. There was no treason!”
A towering presence loomed up beside Kalin. “Do you want us to do anything, sir?” his senior infantryman asked.
Kalin looked toward him and found himself looking at the man’s shoulder. Looking up at his face he said, “No. As funny as it would be to have you throw them into the river, dad wouldn’t like it. Unless he was here to see it. Then he’d laugh himself sick.”
The corporal chuckled and walked away while Kalin went back into his tent. Everyone had always told him that the hardest part was the waiting.
Three moons passed with no action. The day finally arrived when the general led the rest of their force back down the road. They had received a rider the day before, so the entire command melded back into their home commands without making a fuss.
“Anything happen, Lieutenant Zel’Andral?” Colonel Zel’Freedan asked.
“No, sir. There was some confusion with the mayor about who was in charge and our purpose here, but we straightened it out.”
“I read your reports. I think you should have tossed him into the river. But, then, I’ve never been impressed by mayors.”
“The idea was discussed, Sir, but dad would have only thought it was funny if he was here to see it.”
The colonel grinned and said, “Probably a good thing you didn’t, then. Return to the Raiders.”
Kalin fell in beside Major Zel’Carvan and made the same report. The major nodded when he reached the end. “No trouble. Good. Dahral had a bit more excitement.”
“Sir?”
“They fought off a raid. He’s all right. I’ll let him tell you about it himself.” The major paused to laugh. “He’d never forgive me if I ruined his story.”
It took three days to return to the town where Dahral had been left. It looked as neat and orderly as it had at the beginning of the expedition. They had been on the road again for six spans before Dahral joined them. He was quiet, and appeared sad. Dark circles shadowed both eyes.
“I heard you had some excitement,” Kalin said as soon as Dahral finished talking to the major.
“Some,” Dahral agreed in a subdued tone. “Ten men attacked us twenty-one days ago, late at night. I had five, five-man guard stations posted around us.” He paused and shook his head. “They charged straight at us. They came in loud and stupid, like they thought we were just villagers. That night the archers and infantry were on watch. Not one of the attackers made it closer than ten paces from us.”
“You sound glum,” Kalin observed.
“Kal, I hope you never have to listen to a man who has been shot in the gut with a long bow scream until he dies. I had to relieve Archer Del’Benan from duty for ten days. I should have let him take a second shot to show the man some mercy, but I didn’t. I wanted to conserve our arrows.”
“Sounds like you needed a relief yourself.”
Dahral nodded, but didn’t say anything else. By the time they reached Fort Zel’Hardan he had resumed his usual demeanor, but Kalin still caught him gazing sadly out into the distance.
Winter was a time of inaction for Evandia’s northern commands. This was the season when training took up an ever-increasing portion of their days.
Kalin and Dahral found themselves being trained in both large-force and mounted skirmisher tactics. While all officers were expected to learn everything they could, these two were getting a more intense education. Kalin would be king one day, and Dahral was probably going to be a general. The staff at Fort Zel’Hardan owed it to the rest of the Army to train them right.
That isn’t to say they never had free time. There wasn’t a town close by, but there was an inn just up the road. A place to get food and beer, and, for some soldiers, more intimate forms of relaxation.
Dahral came back to their room in a towering rage after one visit to the tavern. “Those fools!” he shouted.
“Dahral? What happened?”
“Two infantrymen started fighting over that blonde serving girl. They broke the inn up pretty bad. And one another as well. I was the only officer there, so I had to break it up.” He shook his head as he paced around in a circle. “Kal, the general has made the inn off-limits.” He turned and looked at Kalin. “No one can go out there now.”
Kalin put his head in his hands and muttered, “Perfect. My turn to get out of here is in two days.” He looked at Dahral and asked, “Where am I supposed to go?”
It turned out there was someplace else to go that Kalin enjoyed more than the inn: hunting. He overheard two of his men talking about it a few days later and approached them.
“Excuse me, men.” Both men snapped to attention immediately. “At ease, at ease. I heard you talking about hunting and wondered if I might come along.”
The men exchanged a glance, then the senior trooper said, “We’d be pleased to have you along, Lieutenant Zel’Andral.”
Kalin nodded and said, “Thank you.”
Two days later ten of them, including two female archers, left the fort with instructions to be back the next day. Kalin chose not to lead. One of the men had been hunting this area every winter for ten years and knew where to go.
They headed north from the fort, toward Farindia, but they weren’t all that concerned. Even Farindian bandits forted up at times like these. Kalin found himself paired up with Private Kel’Narvan. She was tall, and had what was kindly called “strong” features. Her given name turned out to be Willow. His reaction to learning that earned him a very nasty glare.
“You’re lucky you’re a lieutenant, sir,” she muttered.
Kalin gasped out, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” as he laughed. He regained his composure and explained, “I have a friend in the royal guard named Willow Zel’Grildan. He’s a lot meaner than you.”
“He?” she asked in a soft, disbelieving tone.
Kalin squeaked, “‘Yep!”
“Gods Below, the horrible things parents call their kids,” she muttered. “Does he get teased?”
“That’s why he’s so mean.”
She glared at him, then faced resolutely forward. For his part, he kept his mirth firmly in check--for the most part. The group finally reached a meadow and the corporal signaled everyone to dismount.
Gathering everyone close, he whispered, “This is a good spot. The deer are bedded down right now. We’ll have to wait a bit before they start feeding again.” Everyone nodded, then split up in ones and twos to find cover and wait.
Somewhat to his surprise, Kalin found Willow right beside him. He didn’t say anything about it. Everything else aside, he knew she was a better shot than he was. The pair hunkered in under an evergreen tree and got as comfortable as they could.
Spans crawled by. Kalin was squatting on his heels in a light doze when a hand grasped his arm. He was instantly awake, and followed the direction of her pointing finger.
Six deer were making their way into the meadow, pawing at the snow to get at the grass beneath. Kalin and Willow each drew an arrow and aimed at an animal, t
hen waited.
The thwack! of a bowstring was the signal for all of them to shoot, and for an instant it sounded like a child running a stick along a picket fence. One doe broke straight toward them. Kalin had a second arrow on his string and was drawing it when Willow shot from beside him. Her arrow hit the frightened doe in the mouth and burst out through its brain.
Kalin smiled at Willow and went to check the doe he’d shot. It had dropped in its tracks: his arrow had pierced the animal’s spine just ahead of its shoulders.
Three deer were down, and the rest of the troopers were chasing down the wounded while Kalin inspected his kill.
“Good shot, sir,” the corporal said as he walked up.
Kalin turned and bowed, then shrugged. “Except I was aiming at her heart.”
The corporal laughed. “First rule of hunting, sir: if at first you don’t succeed, try again. Second rule of hunting: if at first you do succeed, say you meant to do that.”
Kalin laughed as well and bent over to cut the animal’s throat to bleed it out. Behind him he saw Willow doing the same thing.
Willow held up a bloodied arrow and asked, “Whose arrow is this?”
“They are all standard Army issue. It really doesn’t matter,” the corporal replied.
Willow shrugged and continued field-dressing her kill. Soon all of the troops returned with the rest of the deer.
“Six deer will hardly make a snack for the entire fort,” the corporal said as he looked at Kalin. Kalin’s nod was all it took to send the group in search of other game.
* * *
They were not the only hunters in the area. An Ocellen was out, hunting to feed her year-old kittens. She came upon the gut-piles from three deer and gorged to her stomach’s contentment, but there was little to bring back. Blood-trails told of more meat, and she followed the tracks of horses. That meant men, but they didn’t frighten her.
The troopers had stopped to eat when the scream of a cat shattered their calm. Willow’s horse bucked and bolted, leaving her sitting unarmed in the snow. Kalin rolled out of his saddle and drew his sword.
Kalin got between Willow and the cat and took a ready stance. Then he saw what it was and straightened, then sheathed his sword. “I recognize your kind. I don’t want to fight you.” Not that a sword would do much good against your magic.
The Coravian Conflict (Stavin DragonBlessed Book 5) Page 31