Reclaiming Honor

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  “Ever hunt heratta before?” Thegdol asked.

  “No,” Tovak said.

  “The hoppers are preparing for their annual migration across the plateau. They are mindlessly focused on feeding, almost to the point where they ignore everything else. The trick is nailing them in the head. You do that, they generally drop stone-dead and don’t spook the others. Hit them anywhere else and . . . .”

  “The rest fly off, right?” Tovak asked.

  “Yeah. It’s okay to miss, as long as your shot doesn’t hit one of them. Wing one of them, and the wounded beast will give the alarm. Best not to do that, eh?” Thegdol gestured out to the field before them, which was scattered over with hoppers. “The critters are making it easy on us. We take a few down, gather them up, then advance several yards and kill some more. If we’re careful, and don’t scare them off, well, we don’t have to chase after them. That means less humping and the distance for lugging the carcasses back to camp is shorter. Understand?”

  Tovak did and glanced down at the short sling in his hand. He was very good with it. When hungry and without the means to buy food, he’d used it to bring down rodents and bugs in the caverns. Before the Academy, Tovak had been good with the short sling. His instructors had tirelessly drilled him in its use, making him cast thousands of stones and lead shot until he’d been what one instructor called “exceptional.”

  “Come with me,” Thegdol said, and started over to the pile of carcasses. Thegdol partially picked up a hopper on top of the heap. The heratta was about three feet long, with large wings that fell open limply to the side. The corporal touched the back of the insect’s head with a finger, where there was a neat round hole. “You want to hit it in this area, here. Do so, and it will drop stone-dead and not spook its buddies into flight. Think you can manage that?”

  Tovak looked up at the nearest of the hoppers before replying. He studied them for a long moment.

  “I do.”

  “All right,” Thegdol said. “Let’s move up to the line and you can make your first cast.”

  Thegdol led him up to the squad and the loose line they’d formed.

  “Did you see that shot?” Staggen said to Lok, who was next to him. “That must have been sixty feet.”

  “More like fifty feet,” Lok said.

  “Liar,” Morda laughed. “It was thirty.”

  “You both need to learn to estimate range better,” Staggen said. “Perhaps then you will hit more of what you’re aiming at.”

  Lok glanced over at Staggen and grinned as he placed a shot into the sling pouch. “A child could have made that shot.”

  “Not likely,” Staggen said with a good-natured chuckle. “I’d like to see you try the same.”

  “Focus, children,” Thegdol chided. “Don’t get distracted with banter. Make your shots count.”

  “This is great fun,” Gorabor said, looking over to Tovak as he came up next to him with Thegdol. “If you miss, well . . . as long as the shot doesn’t hit any of them, they don’t spook. Stupid bugs, but good fun.”

  “Right,” Thegdol said to Tovak. “Time to cast. Pick out a target and let’s see what you can do.”

  Tovak stepped forward, two paces. He scanned the field before him. There were six heratta within easy range. He picked one out, about forty feet away. His body was still sore and tight from the previous day. He cracked his neck and rolled his head around to loosen up a little. It helped. Then, he stretched out his throwing arm.

  The rest of the squad had stopped what they were doing to watch. Jodin gave a nasty chuckle. Tovak ignored him and put the lead shot into the sling pouch, which was made of two coarse strips of leather. He focused on his target, staring at it with both eyes open. He cleared his mind, so that there was only him and the animal he wanted to take down. He fixated upon a small point at the back of its head as the hopper tore at the long grass and munched away.

  Tovak took a breath and let it slowly out, then in a smooth motion, he cast, using an underhand swing. He made sure not to swing too hard, for if you did, the sling would make a cracking sound and he did not wish to scare off the other hoppers. He felt the satisfying release as the shot flew free. A moment later, there was a soft thud. The hopper had been hit, right where Tovak intended. It stiffened before twitching once, then fell over on its side, disappearing in the grass.

  “Well,” Thegdol said, coming up and clapping him on the shoulder armor. “Looks like you will not be needing instruction in how to use a sling. That was a mighty fine shot, a mighty fine shot, indeed. You might even give Jodin a run for his money when it comes to slinging.”

  Tovak glanced over at Jodin, whose face had hardened at the corporal’s words. The other turned away to make another cast.

  “Heck of a shot,” Gorabor said, drawing Tovak’s attention.

  “Thanks.”

  Lok gave Tovak a nod of approval and then went back to casting himself.

  “Tovak,” Thegdol said, “I want you on the left there, next to Gorabor. Stay with the squad. We move forward together, when I say and not before. I’ve brought extra shot. So, if you run out, speak up. We’re gonna hunt for the next half hour, then break. After, we’ll spend some time hauling our kills back to the camp and the carts. Then we will do some more hunting.”

  “Yes, Corporal.”

  “Make sure with this grass you remember where your kills are,” Thegdol said. “With the warband being short on food, I don’t want to leave anything behind.”

  “Understood,” Tovak said.

  “Good, now get to work.” Thegdol stepped away.

  Tovak set to work with the squad. They brought down at least two dozen more hoppers before Thegdol called a halt to their work. Then, they began the laborious and tiring job of humping the kills back up to camp and the waiting carts. The air grew warmer as the day progressed, and the work saw the squad leaving their cloaks behind after they’d broken for lunch.

  The lieutenant divided the section into two groups for the afternoon’s hunt. First and Third Squads were to spend the afternoon together. Second Squad, which Tovak had learned was led by Corporal Drall, as well as Fourth Squad, were ordered farther up the valley, supported by four archers. Lieutenant Benthok had gone with them.

  The two squads did not actually work together but near one another, separated by three hundred yards of space. Thegdol and Logath had thought this made better sense. By covering more ground, they might be able to harvest more hoppers as they advanced.

  During the hopper slaughter that followed, Tovak and the others even started to have fun, turning it into a competition of sorts to see who could get the most kills. The only part Tovak did not like was hauling their kills back to camp. It was hard under the suns, hot work. As the suns approached the halfway point between noon and the horizon, Benthok’s voice called down to them.

  “Thegdol, Logath,” he shouted through cupped hands, looking directly down on them from the vantage point on a small hill. “Bring both your squads up here.”

  “You heard the lieutenant,” Thegdol called. “Let’s get moving.”

  It didn’t take long for the two corporals to move their squads and climb the hill to where Benthok waited. Tovak wondered what the lieutenant had in store for them.

  “We’re bringing in so many kills, the carts are having trouble keeping up. So, we’re going to slow it down a little and have a contest between squads,” the lieutenant announced. “A little fun and healthy competition, if you will.”

  “A contest sounds like a grand idea, sir,” Logath said. “Anytime Third gets to show up First, we will.”

  “What do you have in mind, sir?” Thegdol asked.

  “Take a look.” The lieutenant led them to the other side of the hill and pointed to a small field. It sloped gently down and away, to rise again into a forested ridgeline. An unbelievably large swarm of heratta had gathered in the field. There were thousands of them. The nearest were about ten yards away.

  The lieutenant pulled a sling f
rom his belt and placed a single shot in the leather pad. He raised the sling over his head and in a quick, well-practiced motion, let fly at a heratta about fifteen yards away. The shot hammered into its head, making a soft cracking sound. The insect flinched once and rolled over onto its side, its large hind legs and wings quivering. The heratta nearby shuffled a few steps, but did not cease their feast upon the grass, apparently too engrossed in filling their bellies to acknowledge the death of a comrade.

  “That’s how it’s done,” Benthok said with a satisfied nod.

  “Nice shot, sir,” Logath said. “Very nice, indeed, sir.”

  “Right, then, alternating by squad,” Benthok said, “each of you are going to aim to kill one of those hungry bugs. If you don’t score a headshot and take it right down, the injured hopper will spread the alarm, and the whole swarm will go with it. At that point, the game is over. The squad with the fewest kills gets to haul those kills and the ones you previously made back on the other side of the hill up to the carts. The winners get to take a break and review signs with me. How does that sound?”

  Tovak felt a surge of excitement.

  “First Squad will be honored to show up Third, sir,” Thegdol said with confidence.

  “Unlikely,” Logath replied. “All my boys are veterans and damn fine with the sling. I’ve seen to that. Besides, old boy, you’ve got two fresh recruits. I think this contest is already in the bag.”

  “Big talk,” Thegdol replied. “Let’s see if you can back it up”—Thegdol paused for a heartbeat and stressed the next part—“old boy.”

  “There isn’t any backing up anything,” Logath said. “Perhaps your new recruit’s luck will carry you, because I won’t.”

  Bane and Dolan from Logath’s squad, along with two others that Tovak didn’t know yet, turned sour looks upon Tovak. It seemed the anger at being shown up was not confined to just Logath.

  “Corporals, form your lines,” Benthok ordered. “I want Third on the left and First on my right. The squad leaders will go last. The more senior of the squads go first, so we’ll at least bag a few of these things before we spook them. Regular shot only. Questions?”

  “No, sir,” Logath said.

  “I’m good, sir,” Thegdol said.

  “Right,” Benthok said. “Let’s get to it.”

  Each squad formed up in their own line, slings at the ready.

  “Hold on,” Benthok said. “First Squad has seven and Third five, with Dagmar on sentry duty. To be fair, we will keep this an even contest. Tovak, since you’re the newest member of our company, step on out of line. You too, Morda.”

  Tovak felt a pang of regret wash through him. He wanted an opportunity to prove himself, but he did as was ordered and took two steps back. Morda stepped out of the line too.

  “Begging your pardon, sir,” Logath said, “but I think I should get to decide who gets left out.”

  Benthok’s gaze shifted to Logath. He lifted an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

  “This, I want to hear,” Thegdol said.

  “Well, sir,” he said, “since Thegdol thinks First Squad is the best, it only stands to reason if we pick the two to step out, it’ll even the odds. Don’t you agree, sir?”

  Benthok appeared amused by the suggestion. He turned to Thegdol. “Any objections?”

  Thegdol cocked his head to the side, a thoughtful look on his face. He eyes flicked briefly to Tovak before turning a smile on Logath. “None at all, sir, none at all.”

  “All right, Corporal Logath,” Benthok said. “You may pick two members of First Squad to sit the contest out, except Corporal Thegdol.”

  “Yes, sir,” Logath said. “I wouldn’t dream of asking him to sit. It would be no fun without his participation.”

  “Uh huh,” Thegdol said. “Since when do you care about fun when it comes to games of skill? So, who do you want to sit out?”

  “Jodin,” Logath said without hesitation, “and Morda.”

  Thegdol scowled. “You would take Jodin, my best shooter, from me, wouldn’t you?”

  “You wouldn’t want him going against one of his oldest friends, would you? It might leave hard feelings. On the other hand, we wouldn’t want anyone accusing him of playing favorites in the event he missed, now, would we?”

  “Old friend,” Jodin said, shooting Logath a distinctly unhappy look, “there would have been no missing and you know that, friends or no.”

  “Jodin and Morda it is,” Benthok said, now thoroughly amused at the banter. He clapped his hands together. “Tovak, you’re back in.”

  A surge of excitement and a good bit of nervousness coursed through Tovak. After yesterday’s screw-up, he would have another opportunity to prove himself and show his value to Thegdol. He quickly stepped into the last position as Jodin moved over to stand by the lieutenant.

  “Mirok, move forward five paces and pick your target,” Benthok ordered, looking at one of Logath’s boys. “You may cast when ready.”

  The contest had begun.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Mirok moved forward towards the nearest of the hoppers about ten yards off. He slipped a shot into his sling, took a deep breath, and then eyed his target. Raising the sling, he swung and then let fly. A heartbeat later, there was a crunch as the shot hammered home. The hopper quivered once as it was hit, and then its legs gave out. The bug sank down onto the ground, as if it were lying down to sleep.

  “That’s the way to do it,” Logath said. “Good shot.”

  “Third Squad has one point,” Benthok announced as Mirok moved over to stand with Jodin and watch the next cast.

  “Lok, you’re up,” Benthok said.

  Lok moved forward, to roughly where Mirok had been standing.

  “You’ve got this,” Thegdol encouraged.

  “Of course I do.” Lok glanced at Logath, winked, and then took a deep breath, focusing on a hopper a half-dozen yards ahead of where the first one had fallen. He loaded his sling, raised it above his head, swung, and released in a fluid motion. The shot was spot-on. The hopper tipped over on its side and lay still.

  “First Squad gets one,” Benthok said. “All tied up . . . . Dolan, you’re next.”

  Lok stepped away from the firing line and joined the others by Benthok.

  Dolan moved up, his sling already loaded and held lightly in a hand. He sighted a hopper off to the right, about ten or so yards off. Without any preamble, he raised the sling, swung it, and sent the shot hissing downrange. There was an audible crunch. The hopper’s back legs tensed for a moment, as if it wanted to leap, and then it too fell over onto its side, one leg kicking lightly up in the air.

  “Third Squad gets one,” Benthok said. “They’re on top again.”

  Tovak chewed his lip. The nearest of the heratta had been killed, making the coming shots more difficult, as the closest living ones were five yards farther out.

  “We’re gonna move the shot line forward six paces,” Benthok said, “to keep the contest fair.”

  Tovak said a silent prayer of thanks as they shifted forward. He looked on the mass of insects before them and thought it an astonishing sight. The long grass in the field was literally disappearing before their eyes as the bugs ripped and tore at it, eating hungrily away with single-minded purpose.

  “I’d like to go next, sir,” Gorabor said, speaking up, which seemed to surprise everyone, Tovak included.

  The lieutenant looked over at Thegdol with a raised eyebrow.

  “It’s fine with me, sir,” Thegdol said. “Logath, do you have any problems with a change in the order?”

  Logath was silent for several heartbeats as he considered Gorabor.

  “I am getting old just standing here,” Benthok said. “Well, Corporal? Do you have an objection?”

  “No, sir,” Logath said, “I have no problem letting one of Thegdol’s pups go before their turn.”

  “You’re up then,” Benthok said to Gorabor and held out a hand towards the imaginary shot line. “I
like the initiative.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Gorabor eagerly stepped up to the line and loaded his sling. He stared at the field of hoppers for what seemed like a long time, taking long, slow breaths, and then raised his sling.

  “Think your pup will make his shot?” Logath asked abruptly.

  Gorabor lowered his sling and glanced over at Logath meaningfully.

  “Sorry, boy,” Logath said. “I did not mean to interrupt your concentration. By all means, please continue.”

  “Gorabor, take your shot,” Benthok said.

  “Yes, sir,” Gorabor said and raised his sling for an overhead cast. He threw, and as he did, Logath gave an explosive sneeze. The shot seemed to curve slightly after Gorabor released it, flying wide of its mark. It bounced off into the grass. Gorabor sucked in a breath as it nearly clipped the back end of a hopper behind his target. A graze would have startled the creature enough to give the alarm and could have sent them all flying into the air.

  “First Squad misses,” Benthok announced. “Third Squad is up one.”

  “Thulla curse me,” Gorabor said, throwing his sling down into the dirt and looking back on Logath with a heated expression.

  “Was that really necessary?” Thegdol asked Logath.

  “It’s the grass,” Logath said, wiping his nose with a soiled rag. “It tickles my nose something fierce.”

  “I bet it does,” Staggen said.

  “Still, boy,” Logath said, turning to Gorabor, “this should be a lesson. You should be able to cast accurately, no matter the distractions.”

  “Logath is right,” Benthok said. “In battle, there will be plenty to distract you. Best to stay focused.”

  “Yes, sir,” Gorabor said, his unhappy gaze fixed on Logath.

  “Still,” Benthok said, turning to Logath, “if there are any more unwanted distractions, Corporal, I will begin deducting points. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” Logath said, then turned away slightly and blew his nose mightily into the rag.

  Gorabor picked up his sling and moved off to stand with the others, who had already cast.

  “It’s not over yet. We’ll still get ’em,” Thegdol said, patting Gorabor on the shoulder as he went by.