by Andrew Wood
The recruits starting cheering with excitement, a few of whom, were shouting for Patrick to win, others were not quite so quick to voice their opinions. The larger man took a confident pace forward, and made a half-hearted lunge. Jak had already instructed Levin, not to take any mockery and finish the fight with as much haste as possible.
Quick as a flash, Levin knocked the weak attack aside. Before Patrick had chance to make a proper move, he struck his wooden sword across the larger man's hand, just as Jak had done to Camden earlier. Levin then continued by thrusting the rounded point into the gut area. The sword was not sharp enough to break the skin, but it did cause the man to double over in pain, and slump to the ground, as the wind had been quite clearly knocked out of him.
Camden turned to Dane, "thanks," he whispered, realising he had dodged a humiliating and by the looks of the man on the floor, a painful experience. "There you have it, another lesson to you all. Never under estimate your enemy," Jak shouted. "This great lummox here on the floor, thought just because he was twice the size of this lad, it was a foregone conclusion he would beat him easily. At least it appeared some of you were smart enough to know what I was going to do, and not step forward," he added, casting his eyes over to where Camden and Dane stood.
Patrick was in pain, and was angry at being made look a fool. He looked up at the others, all now ignoring him. His own wooden sword was just at arm's reach. Taking a deep breath, he made a grab for it, and threw himself upwards towards the unsuspecting Levin. The youngster though had been keeping a watchful eye on his opponent. Jak had always drilled him in not thinking your enemy was done, until at least you were certain he was dead. As this fight was only a training one, there was every chance Patrick would get back up.
The recruits turned as Patrick roared out, swinging his sword at the youngster who had just beaten him. Levin kept his cool, and realising the man was totally committed to his lunge forward, stepped casually aside, brought his own sword down, and clacked it across the back of the man's head. There was cloud of dust as Patrick thumped heavily to the ground, groaning. Jak turned to his favourite pupil, and smiled, "and let that be another lesson. Never assume your enemy is finished, just because you've put him down once."
After patting Levin on the back, Jak sent him on his way with a look of fatherly pride. Two of the guards helped Patrick; the big man leaning up against a post, nursing his wounds. The other recruits continued with their practice, as they had before. Jak walked amongst them, giving further words of encouragement, and noticing even at this early stage, some members already bonding with others.
Rowan, who was the lazy one during running, kept his eye on the captain, and each time he thought the man was looking, he made out he was busy swinging his sword. Jak was no fool, and had already clocked the shirker. This young man was clearly used to not doing any work, and one who was going to be punished if he continued.
After another break for refreshments, the recruits continued as before. Even Patrick was back on his feet and not quite as over confident and cocky as he was previously. Jak however had seen enough of one young man, and he pulled him to one side. "You must think me stupid, if for one moment you think I cannot tell what you are up to," he started. Rowan looked innocently at him, "you have done nothing but slouch all day, you did not run this morning and every time I turn my back you stop." The youngster shrugged, clearly not caring what the captain thought. "Right, I think I have had enough," Jak was now in no mood for shenanigans. He shouted for two guards, who duly obliged, "take him away, this one will learn the hard way."
Two burly men grabbed then youngster and dragged him toward the wooden building. "Where are you taking me?" he cried out, suddenly taking a care in what was happening. "You lot carry on, I want no messing around. As you are now an odd number, Dane you will be in charge." There were a few gasps and groans, none more so than from Dane himself. "Bloody hell" he uttered, thinking this was going to be awkward. He had already upset most of the group earlier that day, and he was more than certain that some amongst the group were going to make this new situation rather problematic.
Jak walked off, heading for the building in which Rowan had just been dragged in to. Once through the door, he sat at his desk, before looking up at the young man before him. Flanked either side by guards, Rowan realised he was not going to be getting out of this. "When you asked to join the army, did you not contemplate that you may have to work?" he did not wait for a reply. "I will not have anyone here that does not pull their weight. Every man needs to know he can rely on his comrades; you my young friend are a lazy, no-good lay about."
Rowan dropped his head, "you are kicking me out?" he asked. "I do not see you have given me any other option do you? You know I could even have you punished for not fulfilling your oath." Jak waited, giving the young man time to digest what had been said. While he waited, he shuffled through the papers on his desk, until he found the piece he was looking for. It was Rowan's detail sheet, and Jak quickly glanced at his notes.
He realised he had completely misjudged the boys upbringing, earlier thinking he had been from a wealthy family. He noticed the man was eighteen years old and had spent most of his young life in the orphanage at Hamalin. After reaching teenage years, he had been booted out from there, having reached the age where he was no longer their responsibility. He had spent the years since moving between various labouring jobs, and fortunately had been asleep in a stable when the destruction of the city had taken place.
Outside Dane's nightmare was coming true, and several of the group were just sat on the ground talking. The youngster built up the courage to go over and tell them, "come on, let's get to training shall we," he said with no real authority in his voice. One member, the tall man Patrick was amongst them, "go away little boy, can't you see we are busy." Dane turned away; wondering why on this earth had the Captain put him in charge. "He said, get back to work. Now!" Dane was surprised to see Camden walking towards him and the group.
Those seated looked at the large man standing over them, "come on you heard. The Captain put Dane in charge, and you have been asked nicely to get back to work. Now shift your asses." Those sat down looked to the one who they had decided to follow, Patrick. Noticing they were all looking at him, he thought briefly of making a stance, and then remembered he had already been humiliated once today.
Camden glared at Patrick, although no words were said, it was obviously a challenge. The two big men glared at each other, before Patrick finally conceded and looked away. "Come on", he finally said standing up, "let's not get ourselves into trouble, "he said in an attempt at convincing his followers he was doing so off his own back. Camden turned to join Dane patting him on the back. The younger man looked up, "thanks for helping me". Shrugging his shoulders, "well you stopped me being the one who got an ass whipping off that kid earlier," he smiled.
Jak Corley looked back up at the young man stood before him, "I will ask you one question, and your answer will determine what we do next. Do you want to be a soldier?" It was not a difficult question; it only had two possible answers. The young man had not been given much in the way of chances in life; such was the unfortunate circumstances in his upbringing. Since being lectured by the young prince on the horrors of living in the orphanage, the older man had taken a new more understanding view to those less fortunate. Seeing the way the prince had bonded and given a loving home to the boy Taylor, had really changed his mind set. He thought maybe he was just gong soft in his old age, but since seeing how happy those two had become together made him feel he had something to give as well.
In response to the question, Rowan looked up, "I do Sir." Jak nodded, "very well, when we leave this room you can join in with the others. However, if I see a repeat of today, next time I will not hesitate to have you punished and discharged. Not everybody gets a second chance; I am giving you just that." He nodded his head towards the door, "go on." Rowan turned to leave, "thank you Sir. I promise I will try," he added as he did.
> On returning outside, Jak was pleased to see everyone still practicing, despite one or two not doing so very convincingly. He headed straight for Dane, "well done, any problems with anyone?" The youngster glanced over towards Patrick and his group, "no Sir, no problems at all." Jak smiled, he would get the full details later from his own men, "very good. Call your men in then, two lines," he asked. Dane saluted, "yes Sir. Everybody in, two ranks," he shouted much more confidently.
Chapter 4.
Deep in the land of Darekia, Fenlor, Supreme Overlord paced across his room. A large fire pit burned in the centre, giving the only light within. Along one side of the wall, stood several dark shapes, the flickering light enough to see the dark thick hair covering their tall muscular bodies. These were Orlacs, kept close under the control of the leader, there for his protection, should he ever need it.
Having caused the destruction of Hamalin, Fenlor had not only had to sacrifice his twelve most powerful priests, but also most of his own life force. He had been warned that attempting such powerful blood magic was fraught with such dangers. He had assumed a few days after the spell he would have recovered. Although his body was now healed of the scars, the magical force that flowed in his veins was now greatly diminished.
The news of his nation's first defeat, since the start of his bold plan on domination, had come as a severe blow. What made it worse was this blow, had been dealt by something other than normal men. He was still uncertain of all the facts surrounding the loss. His forces had seemed enough in number and strength to overwhelm the last of Corlan's pitiful army. Yet somehow, a great magical force had decimated his troops, wiping them from existence.
Darekia did not have the benefit of a huge army of men. His numbers had been made up by utilising those from North Besemia, casting a spell of compulsion over them to do his bidding. He had not the strength to carry such a spell out again, though he still had control of around a thousand or more who were now blocking any advance from their southern counterparts. Darekian troops were few in number, but on the battlefield, each would be worth at least four normal soldiers. Each went through tough training, their minds twisted to show no weakness or fear, each would fight to the last. The defeat in Corlan had seen him lose over half his army in that one battle.
Packs of Orlacs were still out in the field, though not in any strength to cause anything but nuisance. He had little control of his beasts at such distances, and they were probably at their most useful in the current situation. Roaming around in small hunting packs would at least have the desired effect of keeping the people of Corlan hidden away behind their river. For some reason these huge demonic creatures from the very pits of the underworld, could not swim. As such, the flowing waters gave those cowards a barrier behind which gave them some element of safety, for now.
As things stood, he knew as far as Corlan was concerned he had time to plan. He may have lost that battle, but the people there were no real threat to him, so long as the fear of his Orlacs kept them hemmed in. He would have to think of another way to defeat them; he would not lose the war. As far as Besemia was concerned, he held the north, and the capital. He had placed his most trusted man in charge of the city, and had already received positive reports. Although he had only a small number of his own troops to hold Bashek, he had been told his ranks had been quadrupled in number.
His priest in control, had devised a drug, which when administered to weak-minded men, made them very compliable to his cause. Apparently, many of these Besemians fell into the category, and though may not be expert soldiers, were completely subservient to his command. As such, the guards defending the city numbered sufficiently to have a chance of defending it, should it ever be needed.
Fenlor did still have a regular influx of prisoners being sent north from Besemia, these he used as slaves in his mines, until such time they became useless. Once they had served their use, they were then used to feed the hundreds of Orlacs he still had at his disposal. If he could figure out a way of controlling the beasts, the army he sent forth would be near unstoppable. For that very reason, his last few days had been spent going through old parchment and scrolls, in an attempt at finding a hint on rectifying the problem of control, eventually allowing him to release his hordes upon the world.
Caldar had received the reply from his friend Lord Willem, and chuckled as he had read the part of the wedding invitation. Though he knew it was a tongue in cheek remark, he also recognised the need for him to start doing something about it. The problem he foresaw was the work it would need to make such a thing happen. Though sticking a crown on his head would inevitably take but a few seconds, he knew that would not be enough for everybody else.
His brother Luken had already told him about delaying his own wedding to the Lady Sarena, so as not to unnecessarily put further burden on the people. Perhaps he could persuade others, that all the pomp, which inevitably went with such an occasion, would not be needed in the current circumstances. He knew the people needed a leader, and was aware that he was the one to become it. It had been his duty since birth, and he had always known one day he would king.
He sat alone in his new study, in some part wishing Luken had been the older brother. He saw how much his sibling was loved by everyone. Not even taking into account his magical abilities, this amazing young man had guided thousands of people to their safety. He had seen them secure, and had already started building a future for them, all before Caldar had even emerged on the scene. Deciding there was only one way to sort this out, he stood, and made the short journey across the hallway to his brother's rooms.
Tapping gently on the door, he opened it and put his head around the corner. "Mind if I come in" he said noticing Luken sitting at the table with Taylor. "Of course, no need to ask. Taylor is just practicing his letters." He walked to join them, looking down at the scraps of paper on the table. Luken had written down the letters, and Taylor was attempting to duplicate them. His younger brother would not only make a great king but a great father as well, of that much, he was certain.
The room was a virtual copy of his own. It was Bright and airy, with a stained wooden floor and white walls. Simple but practical furniture was spaced about the room. There was the table and chairs by which he stood, and besides the stone fireplace a large cushioned couch type chair, and woollen rugs on the floor. There were several fixed lamps around the walls, and a few cupboards. Unlike his room, Luken had a line of shelves, on to which were a number of books.
He was not sure on how to broach such a subject as the one he had been thinking earlier; he thought it best to ask straight out. "Luken, I have been thinking..." His younger brother knew straight away something was bothering Caldar, for starters he never called him by his name. "What's up? you never call me Luken. It must be something serious." Caldar smiled, "I have been thinking. I think it best if I stepped aside and allowed you to take the throne."
Luken was shocked, and it took him a few moments to realise what his brother was saying. "Caldar, I can think of three very good reasons straight away why that won't happen." He gestured for him to explain, "Firstly, you are legally next in line. Secondly, you would make a far better king than I would. The people love and respect you; it does not take a genius to work that out. Finally, I do not want to be king, never have, and hopefully never will."
Caldar smiled, even affording himself a chuckle, Luken had given the very same reasons as he had thought about him being the better man. "I'm not so sure little brother," he continued, reverting to his normal use of moniker. "You have already achieved so much, I am so proud of what you have done. Mother and Father would have been flabbergasted at your achievements." Luken placed a hand on Caldars shoulder, "What was achieved was by as much luck as anything. I think you overestimate my part played in guiding the people here. General Skalton, Lord Galliss are but two who have done far more than I ever will."
"Trust me Caldar I am happy to take a back seat. When you showed up it was like a great weight off my shoulders," he cont
inued. "You are the one I have always looked up too, not Mother or Father. You are a born leader, perhaps it's time you believed it yourself." Caldar looked his brother in the eye, for one so young he spoke so well. He clasped his arms around and gave him a hug, "very well little brother, if you believe in me, that's all I need."
Taylor looked up from his work, "Uncle Caldar, if you are going to be king, will you be able to tell my dad to hurry up and get married?" The two brothers laughed, though Luken gave his son a stare. "You know why I cannot marry just yet Taylor, we have been through this. The people have too much on their plates as it is, without the fuss of a wedding," he said. Taylor, pouted at being told off, but that did not stop him, "tell him uncle," he asked looking for an ally.
Caldar patted his nephew on the head, "you do have a point, I'll see what I can do" he smiled. Luken turned to his brother "please do not encourage him," he pleaded. Another knock at the door, and Vanessa entered, "ah here you are, I've been looking for you Caldar." The prince turned to the woman who had stolen his heart, "We are just listening to my little brother's feeble excuses for delaying his wedding day. He reckons the people have enough on their plates, without having to have the distraction of a large celebration, what do you think?"
Vanessa stepped up to Caldar, rubbing her fingers on his cheek, before kissing him gently. "You two are quite alike," she said seductively. She turned to Luken, "Did you know he told me that very same reason for him not being crowned king." Luken looked at his brother, "did he now? Well there's an interesting fact." The young lady went over to Taylor at the table, "I think," she spoke for both, "the answer to your problems would be to have the coronation and the wedding together. That way, I am sure you won't be too much of this burden she seem to think you will both cause us all." Taylor nodded his approval, "yes, now you have to marry Selena" he said.