Dioden’s left hand, the counterpart to Dustin who was still recovering I heard, came bearing three cups of swok in one hand, and an entire platter of smoked meats and flatbread in the other. She had deep lines up close, but the soldier had kind eyes and an easy smile. She reminded me of Andreska immediately, though with far less of a flair for boots and cloaks and mean looks.
“Mind if I join you?” she asked after setting down the wood platter directly between Volant and I.
“We do, but come in anyways,” Volant muttered.
“We don’t,” I shot back at him, and gestured for her to sit. “I’m sorry, he’s had a trying day.”
She chuckled, a masculine sound despite her small frame. “Give it some time.”
Volant took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “It’s not their fault. And it’s not yours either,” he added. “Really, it was that left handed supply shaft. Spooked me.”
Surprisingly, she nodded agreeably. “Gets me too,” she said. “Smugglers’ Hole,” some of the others call it. It was here long before we were. Somehow, Dioden knew about it and it’s essentially the reason we camped here. Before we arrived, it was pretty cunningly concealed. Not as well stocked, but still a long way off from being empty.”
“Smugglers’ Hole?” Volant asked excitedly.
She paused before replying, handing us each one of the cups. I took mine greedily, having barely resisted the cloying smell that exuded from them.
“Not the most original name, I know,” she began, sipping from her own cup. “So, Smugglers’ Hole. It used to be a cache for what appears to be a well sophisticated, well organized group. Smuggler in this case being more closely related to thief than anything. They probably used the place as a way station and camp, hiding from pursuers, stashing stolen goods and the likes. Once they had a big enough collection, or it sat long enough, they’d roll a wagon or cart up to it and go to market.”
“Seems like a lot of work,” I commented.
“Oh, maybe,” she replied. “They had a whole community here though. Those bunk areas at the bottom were large enough for entire families. Dioden had the cavern entrance created over the top, mostly so no one accidentally fell in after we removed the trap door. Before that, I doubt anyone would have accidentally found it.”
We exchanged looks before both of us looked at her, the same thought having occurred.
“How did Dioden find it then?” Volant putting the thought to voice.
She looked around conspiratorially, eyes sparkling with a secret. “No one knows for sure. But if I was to guess, he was one of them at some time. Probably as a child.” She paused, mulling over something. “He has odd habits. And a lot of his acquaintances seem to be the kind the highest-ranking member of the Guard should not have.”
“As a child?” I asked disbelieving. Dioden seemed to be one of those men who never had a childhood. Most likely springing from the ground as a fully-fledged, incredibly serious, and overly wise adult. Play and fun are not words which come to mind after meeting him.
“Yes,” she drawled. “It’s the only explanation. No one knows anything about his childhood. Everything after joining the Guard is on record and perfectly clean, apart from the rumors of his time at the academy. No time for crime after he started moving up the ranks, I would think.”
I mulled this over, while Volant chewed on a rolled piece of meat stuffed into the flat bread. A new, unrelated thought popped into my head with sudden realization. “Umm. What’s your name?” I asked, positively embarrassed we hadn’t gotten to that already.
“Yillan,” she said with a salute. “Recently promoted, thanks to you, to second in command of the Tip, as this outfit is called.”
“A pleasure, miss,” I said, acknowledging her salute.
“Aye, a pleasure,” Volant said through a mouthful of food. He grinned sheepishly and shrugged when I rolled my eyes.
“What’s this Tip business?” I asked. “That is, if you don’t mind yet another question, of course.”
“No, no, not at all. That’s part of why I am here. To answer questions. And to say thanks for the hasty promotion,” she said with a wink. “Our entire strategy is based on a Spear strike. When the battle comes, all of the reinforcements dotted across the border are to regroup for a concentrated front. If anyone sees an attack coming, they are supposed to rally here while we head towards the attackers, picking up other camps along the way. We are the tip of this attack. No matter what happens, the Guard and Soft Steppers are to only go into battle with our company at the head.” She paused, thinking. “When it comes down to it, we will even look like an actual spear.” She began to absentmindedly pick at the grass.
Volant continued to eat, apparently uninterested in further conversation.
“Here, you have what we hope will be the enemy.” A jagged, dotted line ran more or less straight in the dirt. “Our company will attack in a traditional triangle formation.” She drew a rough triangle, dots indicating people. “As of right now, we don’t have enough men for a drawn out, defensive conflict. With superior discipline and weapons, we can hopefully do multiple hard strikes, scaring the Equals off and leaving us with fewer casualties.” She drew three crosses through the enemy line in the dirt, indicating attack points. “Reserves will form the spear shaft if we want to maintain the metaphor. A small, double column which will rush in behind the tip, providing support, and preventing the triangle from being flanked.”
I nodded approvingly, as it looked like a good battle plan, though I’m no expert on such things.
“Seems a bit showy,” Volant remarked through mouthfuls.
“Dioden himself came up with the idea,” Yillan snapped back, a flush creeping up her neck, briefly. Taking a deep breath, she regained her composure. “It’s the best we have. We don’t even have records from the old wars. Ever since the Gray Banners War, no one has had anything but theories on large scale warfare. At best, we have fictional idealizations written by men and women trying to sell more books. Not exactly the most educational material.”
I tried to steer the subject towards the supply shaft again, as this seemed to be a touchy subject. “So, how did you guys get the shaft so well supplied on such short notice?”
That secret gleam appeared in her eye when Yillan looked up. At the same time, I noticed deeply etched crow’s feet and I realized she was far older than I had assumed. Much closer to Dioden’s age. “Now that,” she began, folding her hands together and consequently hiding a tattoo that showed she’d pursued a career in the arts at one time, “is an even more interesting rumor. You see, Dioden knew about the place before we got here. And most of the supplies we brought were intentionally caravanned here with the shaft’s storage system in mind. Nothing big, you see? But where it gets fun is the big stuff. And dry foods. And Guard issue weapons. We didn’t bring any extra gear. The order was actually passed down to travel light, and not to bring anything but the bare essentials. Supplies were already waiting for us.”
I interrupted with a raised hand. “Did you say Guard issue weapons?”
Her eyes practically glowed with excitement. “Exactly! You see what I am getting at? No smuggler would have Guard materials. Everyone knows that kind of stuff isn’t worth much, in comparison to the punishment for having it. Yet here we had a whole cache. Even the feel of the place screamed a barracks. Only the higher ranking few of us were allowed in, while camp was set up. First task was inventory of foods. Second, to make the place more run down than it actually was. No questions allowed. No explanations offered.”
“And I can only assume you have an idea about what the place was for...” I left the sentence hanging between us.
“I’m not sure. But, my first guess was either a commandeered shelter for the council and their underlings after the smugglers were stamped out. Doesn’t quite fit though. The only other idea, and the one that holds up under any scrutiny is this was a part of an undercover program even I didn’t know about.” Yillan looked pensive. “
Or maybe Dioden used it as leverage to get his position a while back, offering it as a safe haven for the rich if things got dicey.”
“Conspiracies are good and all, but we have a bit more immediate concerns. Like not getting annihilated by the Equal’s army.” With that, Volant held open the tent’s flap, gesturing for Yillan to help herself out. “Thanks for the food, though!”
“Well, it was a pleasure. Please come by anytime, Yillan.” I said.
“It was, Nil. If you think of any more theories about that shaft, let me know!” She stood, gathered up the platter and cups, and made her way out into the twilight of early evening.
“What was that about?” I asked when we got back into the tent.
“She’s one of them, Nil. She’s one of the reasons Johanna is dead. One of the reasons we can’t go home.” His eyes burned, tears barely held back.
Thinking of sweet old Johanna hit home. “I don’t think she had anything to do with us. She’s in Brod. We were barely there for a night.”
He sighed, sinking down to his pile of bedding. “It’s all the same. I just want to go home. These people make my skin crawl.”
“Exoneration my friend, that’s worth putting up with the Guard. We can go home then. Move on with our lives.” I found my pile of blankets and wrapped up against the chill. Without warning, a flapping bundle of paper and leather landed squarely on my chest.
“You’re a twit.” He leaned back to his bag. “But I know it must have been tough leaving your writings behind. Found a pair of these down in the shaft.” A thin graphite pencil wrapped in twine came soaring at me, which I caught. “And there was half a dozen of these with them.” He paused and nodded towards me. “Good catch, by the way.”
The journal was probably worth more than anything I’d grabbed. Possibly not monetary wise, but I’d trade everything I had stacked in a neat, deadly pile next to me for such workmanship as this empty book. Each page was crisp, thick and uniform, barely any difference in size or shape across them. The binding was perfection in itself. Leather, soft and dark, encased the pages. It too was as uniform as anything I’d seen at the school. It was a long time before I found words. “Thank you,” I said softly, almost inaudibly.
A snort was all that I heard from Volant. I lit a candle and the remaining evening disappeared into a blur of scribbles. Just before falling asleep, I wet the leather cover, pressed the flat edge of my newly acquired dagger, and then piled everything of any weight on top of the two. By morning, the dagger would be imprinted on the soft leather. Shortly after, I was fast asleep to the sound of Volant’s snoring.
Thirty-one
Yet again, the timid girl woke us at the crack of dawn. It looked like Volant had already been awake, a minor miracle in itself, but it was still too early for me.
“I’m to show you were all the other Learners sleep so you can begin waking them for morning exercises,” she squeaked. I realized this girl was also much older than I’d suspected. Like with Yillan I didn’t bother asking about it. Instead, I grunted in acknowledgment and began to get dressed.
“Thank you again, this means the world to me.” I said to Volant, gesturing with the now marked journal.
“It’s what friends do,” he said with a half smile.
We tried to gently wake each of the Misfits up, but Volant had to move to more persuasive reasons when ignored. He even had to bodily drag the young kid out into the dawn sunlight half naked and splash him with water before he became sentient. By the time everyone was up and presentable, the other two groups were already jogging their laps around the campsite.
A few Soft Steppers had appeared in the night, and were running their own ragged line with sleek and terrifying zymphs pacing easily next to them. I didn’t recognize any of them, but I made a mental note to ask after Slandash and Qaewin when we finished the morning exercises.
We ran. Brisk air invigorated tired muscles. The different companies jeered at each other, but us Misfits stayed awkwardly quiet as we passed. In turn, we were left alone, though a few good-natured insults were sent our way when we passed Yillan’s group.
A new guy, young and sporting a patchy beard was now heading up Dustin’s squad. He saluted respectfully when we passed the first time, but otherwise ignored our group through the remaining morning. Dustin was there too, sporting a pair of black eyes and still swollen nose. He gave us a hard look but that was it.
Post jog, I took the opportunity to gauge the Misfits’ range of Skill. First, the one-handed man named Xen. He certainly had power, using his one arm to carve a giant gouge in the ground with an open palm. “A latrine, your lordship,” he said, lilting accent punctuated by gulps of air.
“Wonderful!” I applauded. “Can you do it again?”
“Again?” He laughed, still out of breath. “That’s my entire store right there. I’ll need a nap and some food before I can so much as splatter a fly.” He looked pensive. “Not that I could actually hit anything that small, but you get my point,” he added.
“I see, quite good, nonetheless.” I gestured to Theo, who had been spending quite a bit of time with Xen in his tent.
Theo rolled his eyes but stepped forward. He used his hand like a knife, and cut through a piece of his shirt with a slice of his hand. I clapped, but his lack of enthusiasm earned him a hard stare too.
I turned to the married couple. “You work as a team, right? Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Amazingly, they did work as a team. Their control and endurance giving us a show, tearing up small clods of grass and juggling them a slow circle. After a dazzling display, the two finished with a simultaneous push, launching the bits of earth a fair distance away.
“Excellent control,” I commented. It really was quite impressive. “Would you be able to keep going?”
“Oh yes,” the wife, Lori, responded.
“But alas,” Udan the husband, interrupted. “Neither of us can put much Skill out at once. At best, we could knock a man or two down, but nothing more damaging.
I nodded in understanding, and gestured the boy forwards. “What about you, Jepp?”
He smiled shyly, stepping forward. Immediately, his lack of range was obvious. His control was exceptional, probably better than my own before I worked on it so specifically while hiding among the Equals. He lacked punch, though it seemed more from technique than ability. As he lifted some of the shattered ground from Xen’s demonstration, he whipped the earth back and forth around his body, mesmerizing us for a solid length of time before letting it fall to the ground.
“That was excellent!” I beamed when we all finished clapping. I wasn’t sure how useful he would end up, as that was all he had in him. He’d be just as handy given a knife considering his short range, but he showed potential. Something to figure out for later.
Without being asked, Alisandra stepped forward, her eyes fierce and jaw clenched in concentration. With a visible effort, she began punching at the ground, first in front of her, and slowly moving her fists higher until she had made an astonishing amount of dents in the ground in front of her. Sweat stood out against her forehead, and a few gray strands mixed with lighter black hair that had fallen out of the tight braid.
“That was pretty cool,” Volant said approvingly.
Ignoring his comment, she looked down at me, being fairly taller. Her wrinkled skin and graying hair did nothing to dissuade her presence. She held herself like a queen, commanding and borderline contemptuous of those around her.
“Did you study at the school?” I asked. It was practically unheard of for that kind of control coupled with such a strong output of Skill to be found outside of graduates who’d spent quite some time there.
A look of disdain crossed her face. “No. I had a couple of books. And a lot of incentive.”
I nearly pressed for more information, when I saw Xen’s ashen face and Lori emphatically shaking her head no out of sight of Alisandra. Clearing my throat, I instead smiled encouragingly and motioned back to the line.
“You all seem quite capable. Let’s break for lunch, and come back in an hour and go at it again. A little practice may go a long way.”
Grumbles met this pronouncement, Volant joining in with the group.
“Turncoat,” I hissed at him.
“Despot,” he mouthed back.
Surprisingly, everyone turned back up after their meal. With no actual idea how to train them, we generally just showed off. Volant began tossing furious whirlwinds at each misfit. Everyone but Jepp was able to disintegrate, or at least deflect his attack.
Luck, and a bit of last-minute tinkering by Volant led to Jepp only being knocked a few feet back by the blast of air. Dazed and embarrassed, he tried a few more times until he created a dirt shield, leading to a completely mud covered yet successful Jepp.
Once everyone was drained of any remaining Skill, we practiced sparring. Volant stood by idly, not trusting the others. As he grew bored, he practiced that sky pirate flow he’d learned from his mother. It was a bit mesmerizing. Unlike watching a fight, and yet ever so similar, he moved at a fraction of his normal speed. Each step and thrust taking agonizingly long-- long enough that my own legs ached in sympathy just watching him.
When I realized these people, apart from Udan and Lori who had basic Guard training, proved to have no idea what to do with the swords slung at their sides, I nearly gave up.
First, there was Jepp. Too small to carry anything.
Then, there was one armed Xen. He seemed comfortable holding it, but his attempt to spar with Alisandra showed he had no concept of what to do with a weapon besides swing it wildly. Wide, off balance attempts left him over committed, defenseless, and exhausted after a few strikes.
Alisandra was timid. Swinging at her opponent’s blade, attacking the sword and completely ignoring whoever carried it. It ended up being an awkward display between the two that looked closer to a theatrical performance than anything.
As for Lori and Udan, they could thrust and block, but it was barely adequate, considering.
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