Steel And Flame (Book 1)

by Damien Lake

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  Since their bunks were on the northern wall, they both had small windows over their cots. Inside his new closet Marik found two iron locks with keys protruding from the keyholes. He located the latch on the closet door and a similar one on the metal footlocker. The locks would secure his two storage units. Fraser’s departing comment made sense now.

  Marik distributed his belongings between the two. He shut his silver within a small drawer inside the closet containing its own built-in lock above the knob. Once his meager belongings were stored, he studied his new home.

  These wooden walls and floors bore a time-worn, yet homey, feel. Though darker than outside, enough light illuminated the room so it did not seem gloomy. Attached to the closet’s side, near where his head would be when he lay down, was a short wooden shelf with old candle wax stuck to it.

  The half wall separating the Third and Fourth Units held a double fireplace which opened on both sides to keep the place warm during winter, though it still remained unlit. Not far above, planks had been spread across the rafters. Between them he could distinguish shapes and forms. Most likely it served as a storage area for whatever equipment belonged exclusively to the Fourth Unit, or else was materials for building maintenance.

  A new man entered the Fourth’s living quarters and unlocked the closet to Dietrik’s other side. He stashed away a sword before re-locking the door. Hair hung to his shoulders, the brown locks pulled back into a short tail. Like everyone else in this town except the clerks, he possessed muscle over a solid framework of a body. With a casual nod, he addressed Dietrik.

  “So you must be one of the new recruits. I was watching part of the games from the wall.”

  “Dietrik here. And this chap is Marik.”

  “Welcome aboard, chums. My handle’s Hayden. I guess Fraser gave you his own welcoming speech. It’s never changed in the three years since I joined.”

  “It was rather short on detail, other than the reporting lines.”

  “Yeah, he’s big on that. Earnell’s been talking about possibly retiring after the next campaign season and Fraser’s the best candidate of the squad’s four sergeants to take his place. He’s been acting like that, I think, so none of the others seem overly influential with the men by ordering them around. It’s sort of funny really.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Earnell’s been talking about retiring for at least the last three years. Fraser keeps snapping at the bait like a horse at a dangling carrot. Why’s it so damned hot for this late in the year?”

  It felt fine to Marik, especially as the noon bell was still two candlemarks away, but judging from the damp armpits on Hayden’s tunic and the smell of sweat he must have been working or exercising heavily.

  “I need some air! You guys want to come along? I know Fraser didn’t tell you anything about the place, so I’ll show you around, like.”

  “That would be most kind indeed! Marik?”

  “I’m game. Let’s go.”

  The three checked their locks before Hayden led them outside. “Let’s go up and walk on the wall,” he said. “We can get a good view of the place from there.”

  He talked during the walk to the southern wall, passing identical barracks for the other squads. “I know Fraser went into his whole army versus mercenary band routine with you new guys and why we’re better than both. He’s right about that for the most part. The real idea is to look after your own skin like any merc band, but to support the group you’re in with the efficiency of the army’s training. That’s why we have all these useful places here to get our strengths up instead of resting all winter.”

  The last barracks before the wall had been built exactly as the others. Nevertheless, it possessed a different air. Marik could put no finger on why, though his immediate observation centered on the two women sitting on the doorway steps. No soft bulges or comely personalities pestered them. They were hard, lean and mean, narrowed eyes marking every man who walked within fifty feet.

  “You better not get any romantic notions or frisky ideas,” Hayden whispered. The warning had been unnecessary for either new recruit. “Not a drop of honey in there to be had. Or wanted, for that matter.”

  “That is…” Dietrik’s voice faded, leaving Marik to wonder what he had been about to say.

  “It’s Fifth Squad. Not many does in the band, but the ones that do make it are all in there.”

  They left behind the hawk-eyed women, reaching the wall only a few steps later. Marik saw a very narrow flight of steps attached to its side. Little better than protruding planks, they had no rail and only two feet worth of width. Hayden noticed his frown.

  “You’ll see these every fifty feet,” he said, pointing down the wall. “It’s supposed to allow defenders easy access to the walls if they need to, but still make it hard for enemies to descend without pitching head-over-ass. Let’s go up.”

  To ascend, Marik hugged the wall to avoid overbalancing and falling off the side. Heights always made him nervous. Feeling the plank bending slightly under his weight almost made his legs freeze. Only the knowledge that stopping would paralyze him forever kept him moving.

  Once he reached the top, he quickly hopped to the flat walkway, a width of eight feet. He rested a hand atop the sharpened logs lining both sides. From this height he could see to the opposite wall in the distance. Marik could also see most of the other buildings and began picking them out while Hayden pointed.

  “Right ahead are the barracks for the Fifth through Sixteenth Squads. They take up most of the southeast corner of the town. You see over there between the barracks and the east wall? That building in the southern corner is a training hall. I think both of you will be in there by tomorrow.”

  “Oh,” Dietrik asked. “And why is that?”

  “Well, you’re both D Classes in the skill arena, right? That’s my first impression anyway, so don’t get huffy.”

  “You are correct. But what does that have to do with us specifically?”

  “Fraser will track you two down later with orders. All the D Class recruits I’ve seen in the last three years get them. The band will take a D Class fighter, but if you haven’t improved by spring when the fighting starts, you’ll get kicked out. The reputation of the band won’t allow a below average fighter to be seen fighting under its name.”

  “This is the first I’ve heard of it.” Dietrik posed the same question Marik wanted to ask, so he nodded, stayed silent and listened.

  “Like I said, Fraser will catch you tonight. Anyway, that’s the training hall. If they stay true to form, all of you D Class guys will be in there together for the next several days with instructors. After that, it’s up to you to get better on your own. The best place to do that is the empty area north of the hall. You see it?”

  “Yes, but the trees beside the hall are blocking most of the view. What’s there?”

  “Mostly it’s open space, but it’s called the Second Training Area. It’s got open ground for sparring, a slew of practice dummies and a few different terrain types are built in. There’s a gully on the far end and thick trees at this end and even shacks to practice village fighting. It can actually be fun if you have a good training partner.”

  Marik and Dietrik glanced at each other, small upturns at the corners of their mouths speaking what words could not have.

  “I can see breeze in the trees on the west side. Let’s walk over there while we talk.” So saying, Hayden set off across the wall top with his semi-students in his wake. “You see up north past the barracks and the training area? That huge monster of a building is the stables, but the Ninth Squad hardly ever uses horses. We usually get the closer contracts and have to walk. That’s another thing, make sure your legs stay in shape or you’ll regret it come spring. And one of those buildings behind the stables, with all the floors and windows, is the mages’ building. Most call it the Tower.”

  “Mages?” The question blurted from Marik in his startlement. “
The Kings have magic users?”

  Marik’s response to the mages caught Hayden’s interest. “Of course! This is the best band in the whole kingdom. A good magic user is highly prized in the army and the Kings always go out of their way to recruit one whenever we can. A mage can be worth any hundred fighters if he’s studied his practice.”

  “It’s just…” It was what? Marik hardly knew what, but his repulsed astonishment persisted. “I’ve never trusted magic users very much.”

  “Good! It shows you have good sense.”

  “Meeting an enemy’s blade with your own is honest,” he continued, struggling to articulate his feelings. “A real test of skill and the measure of a fighter, with the best man winning. Using tricks and waving your hands to win seems…dishonest, or wrong, I guess. Besides, how can you trust a man who might do something unnatural at any moment?”

  “That’s about how I feel myself, but I have to admit there are times when they’ve been useful to have around. Anyway, you’ll get into that during the next eightday. So at least you know where their Tower is, over there in the northeast corner.”

  Marik’s gaze swept over the mages’ complex, which could never be a tower in any sense of the word. A building with three floors, it looked no different from the records office building, though its proportions were larger. Its much smaller neighbor drew his eye.

  “What is that next to the Tower?”

  Hayden still strode westward, but stopped to reply. “Well, in the agreement the band has with the kingdom, any magical items we find during our campaigns have to be turned over to the king. I don’t know if he uses them or destroys them or locks them away or nobody’s nevermind. Also any political or government documents recovered have to be stored until they’re retrieved by the king’s clerks, so they’re all locked up tighter than an innkeeper’s daughter. That’s the safe house where it’s all stored.”

  Dietrik must have felt as adrift as he did. His new friend commented, “I’m not quite following you on that.”

  “Oh. Do you guys know anything about the Crimson Kings’ history? No? Hmm. Well, let’s get down to the breeze before we get into that. Remind me when we get there. Where was I?” He continued his walk along the wall, passing a man sitting on a wooden chair who smoked a tobacco roll and gazed aimlessly down at the road.

  “I believe you finished the Tower.”

  “Right! Only other important buildings on this end of town are those there next to the Tower. The north one is the leatherwork and smithy; the Kings are always forging new weapons and armor and the like. The south one is the armory, where it’s all stored after it’s done.”

  Marik frowned anew. “The armory is next to the mages’ building?”

  “Yeah. What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem right to make and store blades right next to a group of mages.”

  Hayden laughed. “I suppose so! That reminds me, you two should stop by there soon and see about getting outfitted with any equipment you don’t have.”

  “That sounds nice. What’s the catch? And the cost?” Marik asked.

  “Nah, they’ll tell you all about that in there.”

  They passed above the main gates. Hayden was only pointing out the primary structures inside Kingshome, not bothering to identify every latrine jakes or scrubhouse. Marik focused on what they walked past, asking, “I was curious about this here. This huge open area with the taverns and shops along its edges.” He noticed the tables where the officers had sat were already gone, carried away as soon as the last new recruit left to join his squad.

  “Ah! This here’s Ale House Row, as we like to call it. The only shops and taverns in the whole town are on the Row and they fill up as night falls.”

  Thinking that sixteen squads of a hundred men at the full accounted for sixteen hundred men, Marik replied, “I can imagine! How many taverns are there?”

  “Twelve. Seven on the east side, five over there. The owners are the richest damned tavern men in all the kingdom. The open land between the rows is the Marching Grounds. Not that any actual marching happens, but it’s the drill area for when squads are scheduled to practice against each other. It’s the only space in town large enough to handle the job. Up at the north end is the command building. The top officers do their business in there, so don’t go in unless one tells you to. Behind that is the officer’s quarters, and behind that is the records and payroll office. Everyone’s favorite building!”

  They neared the western wall. The breeze stirred while they closed. Dietrik looked down to find four more barracks occupying this southwest corner. “Ah! These must be the First through Fourth Squads! I wondered why they weren’t with the others.”

  “They’re the specialists. A lot of them are B Class fighters to a various degree.”

  “Specialists?”

  “You saw the Ninth. We’re all frontline fighters with our own weapons of choice. Pretty standard combat. Every now and then a contract calls for a little extra and a specialist unit has to go in. Most of them are ‘behind the enemy line’ type of fighters. Hitting supply lines or sabotaging enemies. All the glamorous work, but also damned dangerous. I’ll stick to the frontline.”

  “The lines are a dangerous place themselves.”

  “True, but the fatality rate in the specialists always seems higher than the other squads. I’m not sure they’re ever full up to a hundred men. You see that open area between them and the west wall? It’s hard to see since it’s completely surrounded by those trees, but that’s the First Training Area and it’s exclusive to them, so don’t trespass on their turf. They hate that.”

  Hayden did not elaborate. Marik’s gaze wandered to a long cleared area occupying the space north of the barracks and west of the command building. “Is that an archery range?” he asked, picking out hay bails and dummies at the field’s far end.

  “Yeah. You don’t have to be an archer to use the range, so I recommend spending a few days over there.”

  Past the archery field, Marik could see a large building and open space consuming the remainder of the northwest corner. “And that?”

  “The Third Training Area. It’s like the Second, but has different terrain setups and it’s larger in size. That building is bigger than it looks too, and it’s set up for indoor combat. There’s small rooms and corridors and an open warehouse mocked up in there.”

  They reached the corner where a wooden lookout tower rose a floor higher than the wall. Their new friend opened a door and fished around in a dark room. A voice from inside could be heard complaining, “Damn it, Hayden! Knock it off! Go find some other place to ‘cupe. And that’s Homeguard use only!”

  “Ah, you’re not using it, so drop the martyr bit.” Hayden laughed, and he shut the door on the irritated reply, pulling out a plain chair matching the road watcher’s. A quick study found a spot where the breeze blew strongly. “Now that’s much better. The walls are always the best place to relax.”

  The three men paused in their conversation to enjoy the moment, light wind blowing across the wall top. Marik could hear the town in the silence offered by his companions. Not quite the normal sounds he usually heard. No livestock mooing or clucking or filling the air with indignant imprecations. No wagons or hawkers emitting their creaks, moans, and sales pitches. Sounds from people moving about were present but in different quantities from a bustling village setting to the tasks of everyday life.

  Instead, the prevalent noise was the faint ringing of steel on steel and men shouting across open spaces. From his perch he could see movement in the First Training Area, though the trees denied him clear vision as to what exactly the specialists in there were about.

  “Boy, that feels good after a mean sweat! So that’s the town, or the important parts anyway. It’s pretty small compared to even a village. Everything’s packed in neat and tidy so there’s a lot to be had despite the size.”

  Broken from his musings, Marik reminded Hayden, “You were going to tell us a
story once we settled down.”

  “Oh yeah! The safe house and all that.” He adjusted his position on his seat while Marik and Dietrik squatted between the jagged points of the log rows. “You don’t know anything about the Kings? I mean about the past and all that?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Hayden considered for a moment. “I guess it doesn’t, except it helps explain the whole mentality around here. And a few other things. Here’s the short version.

  “I’m no story teller, but it starts out like this. However long ago it was, one of the kingdom’s dukes wasted most of his funds on whatever it is dukes piss their coin away on. Galemar was still turbulent, or at least more than it is today, and all the lords had to maintain larger fighting forces to lend to the king if he sent out the call. Or they had to have large forces if they were the reason the king sent out the call to his loyal retainers.”

  “Sounds a bit like every man for himself. There must have been no shortage of work for chaps like us then.” Marik nodded his agreement with Dietrik’s observation.

  “Yeah, like that. Anyway, this duke suddenly couldn’t afford his men, so he cut half of them loose. A group banded together and managed to get themselves hired by a lord who was in trouble, and they made a good name for themselves. The soldiers who hadn’t banded with them at first heard about it and tracked them down and joined together again, so you’ve got half of this duke’s trained army running around acting like mercs.

  “They were doing a good job of it too, so later when the duke’s wife and mistress both poisoned him, the other half decided to jump ship and hunt down their former shieldmates. Now the band was too large to move around randomly looking for hires, so they dug into this nice defendable spot on top of this here hill after they sank a few wells. Then they sent out runners to potential client lords. No one else had enough coin to hire such a large group of men.”

  Marik could already discern the seeds of the band today in Hayden’s story. The band’s history still richly colored its members’ outlook. Deeper meanings contained within Fraser’s greeting speech unfolded while Hayden spoke, and Marik listened with interest.