Reclaiming Honor

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  “That would be nice,” Gorabor said with a glance in the lieutenant’s direction.

  Despite the darkness, Tovak had little trouble finding their way. He was generally good at remembering directions, once he’d eyeballed how to get somewhere. He led Gorabor unerringly through the camp. When they reached the cooking tents, the dodder ration line was even longer than it had been the last time.

  Tovak and Gorabor joined the end of the line. Neither saying a word to the other, they patiently waited their turn to collect the sacks. The silence between them was palpable. Every now and again, Tovak caught Gorabor casting sidelong glances in his direction. Then, after what seemed like an interminable wait, it was finally their turn.

  “What company and how many sacks?” the cook asked.

  Tovak held up four fingers and said, “Baelix Guard.”

  The cook nodded, handed over the four requested sacks, and waved for the two of them to step aside. An assistant standing next to the table made a notation on a tablet.

  “What are they this time?” Gorabor asked, holding one of the sacks up to his nose. He inhaled deeply, clearly enjoying the smell of the freshly cooked dodders.

  “Heratta,” the cook replied with disinterest.

  “They smell great,” Gorabor said.

  Tovak had to agree, but he remained silent.

  “There’s something not quite right with you, mate,” the cook said, sourly. “No one likes army food. Now, off with both of you. You’re holding up the line.”

  They hefted the sacks, which were radiating warmth, and made their way back to the company, again, without exchanging a word. By the time they returned, the tents had been broken down, rolled up, and stacked.

  All four sections had formed up into three ranks. The company stood at ease, with their packs and spears resting on the ground before them. Benthok waited off to the side of the formation, speaking in low tones with Thegdol and a sergeant Tovak had learned was named Kelloth.

  Tovak and Gorabor set about distributing the dodders.

  “Just open the bag,” a corporal from Third Section said quietly when Tovak approached. “I’ll get it myself. I don’t want you touching my food.”

  The corporal’s disgust was plain. Tovak kept his face blank. Inside, however, he was seething. Bottled up rage, shame, and embarrassment tore at him.

  “You tell him, Karn,” the warrior behind the corporal said. “And the same goes for me. I don’t want no dirty Pariah fingering my food.”

  “Aye, filthy Pariah. You should do the honorable thing and just kill yourself,” Corporal Karn said, “but then again, you have no honor, no Legend. It’s too much to expect one of your kind to do the right thing.”

  There was a mutter of general agreement at that from Karn’s squad.

  Despite his anger earlier at Logath, Tovak found himself falling into an old and familiar practice of ignoring the hatred. He did his job. He moved on, trying not to let it bother him. But the truth was it tore at him terribly.

  And when he’d finished with distributing the dodders, he took one for himself, bit into it, and walked over to the supply tent, where Bahr stood waiting for him. Tovak held out the near-empty bags to the sergeant. Bahr accepted them and set them on a small camp table that was set up before his tent. A three-legged stool sat underneath the table and a thick ledger lay atop. It was clear that the camp table served as the sergeant’s desk.

  “Sergeant, I’ll need that new spear,” Tovak said.

  The sergeant stepped close. “Don’t worry about them dumb boffers. You’re not the first Pariah I’ve seen go through this warband, boy, and you won’t be the last. Some have proven themselves, some not. You, if I am any judge, will.”

  Tovak looked at the sergeant, surprised. He had not expected any support from Bahr, just the same treatment he’d received from everyone else. Bahr’s words were more than welcome.

  “Time, patience, and strength will get you through this,” Bahr said. “Do your job, stay out of trouble, and keep your chin up. Show them your worth, earn their respect, and change a few minds. They’ll come to terms with you. I promise, in time it will get easier. And if you’re the spiritual sort, then a few prayers to Thulla won’t hurt none either, now, will it?”

  Tovak became still at the mention of his god. Few these days bothered to speak openly about faith, that was, if they kept it. Most didn’t, and in some circles, such talk was dangerous. Did Sergeant Bahr keep the faith?

  “Thank you, Sergeant,” Tovak said and meant it.

  “Don’t thank me,” Bahr said, turning away to grab a spear he had clearly set aside for Tovak. It was leaning against a large crate and close at hand. “I don’t like Pariahs either, but I’ve taken a shine to you.”

  Wondering why, Tovak took the spear.

  “The lieutenant and your corporal told me more about how you took down that murinok,” Bahr said. “That takes guts.”

  “I was so scared,” Tovak admitted, “I almost shat myself.”

  “Admitting that takes guts too,” Bahr said and then pointed at the spear. “Try not to break this one, will you?”

  “No promises, Sergeant,” Tovak said with a sudden grin. He then picked up his pack from where he’d set it on the other side of the supply tent and slipped it on. Hefting the spear, he took another bite of the dodder and strode, somewhat stiffly, down the middle of the formation.

  He could have walked around, behind the company, to his position with First Squad. However, Bahr’s words were fresh to mind. He wanted to show them all that nothing they said would wound him. It was a show of defiance and one he decided necessary. Tovak fully intended to claim his place here. He sensed their eyes upon him, felt the disgust and the animosity, as if it were a tangible thing that poured forth. He ignored it all. He would show them what true Legend was about, even if it killed him in the end.

  Tovak reached the end of the formation and fell in, next to Gorabor. He set his pack and spear on the ground and, like the rest of the company, waited for Benthok to call them to attention. Thegdol broke off from the lieutenant. The corporal approached and then slowly walked down the line of his squad, looking at their armor and equipment. It wasn’t a formal inspection, but it was clear he was checking to see that his boys were presentable. Apparently satisfied, Thegdol took his place at the head of First Section, where his own pack and spear lay.

  Sergeant Kelloth, who had remained speaking with the lieutenant, abruptly snapped to attention, offered a salute, and then he too took his position to the right of the formation. Benthok waited several moments, glanced back towards the captain’s tent, and then moved out to stand before the company.

  “Right then, you lazy durpas,” Benthok called. “Packs on.”

  The company began hefting their packs. Tovak picked his own up and put it on. The lieutenant waited until the entire company had their packs on and spears in hand.

  “Company,” Benthok called, stressing the word and dragging it out. “Stand to attention.”

  The whole company pulled themselves to attention, spears immobile at their sides and backs straight, gazes fixed forward. Moments later, Captain Struugar strode around the corner of his tent and up to the lieutenant. Benthok, standing to attention, snapped off a crisp salute. The captain was wearing his armor, like the rest of them. Struugar returned the salute.

  “One hundred thirty-four present and accounted for, sir,” the lieutenant reported. “None in the sick tent.”

  “Small miracles, then,” the captain said, then lowered his voice and said something to the lieutenant. Benthok gave a curt nod and moved over to Struugar’s side as the captain turned to face his company. Tovak thought Struugar looked tired and perhaps even a little worn.

  “The Great March continues,” Struugar said. “Our mission has not changed. That means more foraging for us. We’re moving back up into the hills again. The scouts report they are thick with heratta, so that’ll be our focus. I hope you like hoppers, because it’s all you’re likely
to get from the cooks for some time.”

  “At least it’s not durpa, sir,” Corporal Thegdol said, and that brought a chuckle from several who were standing to attention.

  “Too true,” Struugar said and then sobered. “A word of warning, though. The pioneers ran into a large band of orcs yesterday, not far from where we will be operating.” He waited a moment to let that sink in. “It was a sharp fight and we took some losses, but our boys gave more than they got and forced the orcs off. It is expected that encounters like these will increase in frequency. You need to be on your toes from here on out. The easy days are over. We’re moving into territory that’s far from friendly, so nobody goes out alone. Out in the field, if you feel the need for a piss, be sure to take a friend.”

  Struugar paused a moment.

  “As you forage, keep your eyes open for signs of the enemy, and if you notice anything, drop what you’re doing and report immediately to your squad or section leaders.” Struugar glanced over at his lieutenant. “I’ll be working with Second Section today. Lieutenant Benthok will remain with First and Sergeant Kelloth will take Third. Fourth Section will be on wagon escort duty again. More on where the warband is headed in the coming days. Stay safe, stay alert. That is all.” The captain turned to Benthok. “Let’s get the company moving.”

  “Yes, sir,” Benthok said, and then turned to face the formation. “Company, left face, forward march,” he called, and with armor chinking, the company stepped off.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  With Corporal Hilla’s squad of archers following at the rear of the small column, First Section left the wide-open expanse of the plateau and, once again, marched up into the hills. The going was difficult, seeing the section climbing up and down a series of steep hills before entering a valley. The valley, several miles wide, was thick with grass and littered with the occasional patch of trees and scrub brush. A stream cut its way in a meandering path down the middle of the valley. It was a peaceful setting and Tovak found himself enjoying the view as they trudged along, one mile after another.

  Once they left the main encampment, the line of march had spread out and become more relaxed. Tovak walked by himself. No one wanted to share the miles with him. A few feet behind, Gorabor was speaking with Staggen. After them came Lok and Thegdol. Morda and Jodin were to Tovak’s front. Staggen was lecturing on the advantages of having a good pipe at the end of each day.

  “It strengthens the constitution,” Staggen said, thumping his chest armor. “Look at me, I never get sick or catch a cold.”

  “All from having a pipe?” Gorabor said. “I’ve never been one for the pipe. My mum wouldn’t let me try it, said smoking was a nasty habit. She wouldn’t even let Da smoke.”

  “That’s cause she never tried it,” Staggen said. “If she had, she’d know, like my ma did. Who do you think taught me the benefits of a good pipe, eh?”

  “It really keeps you from getting sick?” Gorabor asked.

  “Aye, it does,” Staggen said, “laddie.”

  “You are full of teska dung,” Lok said, with a laugh from behind them. “Don’t listen to him, Gorabor. He is a right awful liar. Shameless bastard, he is. Staggen gets sick, just like the rest of us, smoking a pipe or not. He’s just fond of the taste, is all. Probably wants to get you hooked, so he can borrow a smoke when he’s out.”

  “I would never dream of lying to you, lad,” Staggen said in an exaggerated tone of hurt. “Honestly, Lok . . . stretching the truth, maybe, but lying to young Gorabor here? Never.”

  Tovak listened with half a mind as the banter continued. It had been like this for the last few hours. His gaze strayed out into the valley and then to the slopes that surrounded it. This was truly a beautiful, unspoiled place. Heratta were scattered throughout the valley, nothing like the numbers they had seen on their last excursion to the hills but still a good many. More hoppers could be seen gathered along the slopes to the hills.

  The lieutenant angled the column of march to the right and they began climbing back up into the hills and out of the valley. The slope was steep, craggy, and boulder-strewn. Tovak decided that, when the time came to mark the trail to camp, it would not be the easiest of jobs.

  “Why can’t we camp down in the valley?” Gorabor asked between labored breaths. “There is plenty of game out there. All this climbing is killing my legs.”

  “Welcome to the army, son,” Staggen said. “Nothing is ever done the easy way.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Lok said. “It’s got nothing to do with easy or not or where there is or isn’t game. The lieutenant is moving us up into the hills for safety. He will pick us a campsite that not only has some elevation to it but is also somewhat secluded.”

  “Why elevation?” Gorabor asked, glancing back.

  “If we camp in the valley,” Lok answered, “anyone in these hills around us can look right down on our camp and see where we are, especially at night when we’ve got fires going. It makes us an inviting target for orc and goblin raiders with balls enough to take us on.”

  Tovak looked at the hills with fresh eyes, wondering if any of the enemy had seen the column enter the valley. He hoped not.

  Cresting the hill, yet another greeted them. The slope was steep. Without hesitation, the lieutenant led the section into the trees and upward, following a small stream. This brought them to a wide, flat, grassy area that was flanked on either side by sloping ridgelines.

  The collapsed ruins of an old farmhouse lay in the center of the field. The roof had long ago fallen in and was now a pile of overgrown debris. Only two of the stone walls remained standing and they rose a few feet above the grass and brush that had grown up over much of the ruin.

  Tovak wondered why someone had taken the trouble to settle so far away from any hint of civilization. What had happened to the people who had lived here? Who were they?

  Beyond the ridges that hemmed in the field, the landscape seemed to grow rockier and steeper as the mountain slopes reached towards the sky. They had entered the high country, and Tovak could feel a slight chill in the breeze blowing down from the snowcapped mountains.

  “Section . . . halt,” Benthok called out. The column ground to a stop.

  Tovak was breathing heavily and, like everyone else, sweating profusely. He pulled out his waterskin, unstopped it, and took a heavy swig. If the lieutenant selected this spot for a camp, it was certainly secluded, and it had the elevation Lok spoke of. His gaze traveled up the mountain slopes. Though if anyone was up there, they would easily be able to look down upon the camp. There was not much one could do about that, which was why they fortified the camp.

  “Logath, Bane, and Dolan, you three have marker duty,” Benthok ordered as he turned to face the section. “Corporal Thegdol, do you have the bag?”

  “I do, sir.” Thegdol stepped forward and handed it to Logath.

  “Wouldn’t this be better suited to the Pariah, sir?” Logath asked and pointed at Tovak.

  Benthok had looked away and was staring up at the nearest mountain. He turned a hard gaze back to Logath. Tovak could sense the lieutenant’s anger at being questioned.

  “Did you ask me a question, Corporal?” The lieutenant’s tone was filled with irritation. “I might have missed it, as I was not paying attention.”

  “No, sir,” Logath replied, hastily.

  “Good,” Benthok said. “The path we took up here is unsuitable for the carts. You’ve got your work cut out for you marking a route the teamsters can traverse.”

  “Yes, sir,” Logath said and then offered a salute. “We’ll get the job done, sir. Bane, Dolan, you two are with me. Let’s get moving.”

  They stepped out of line, dropped their packs, and moved past, heading in the direction they had just come. Tovak stood there, pleasantly surprised. He was wondering why he and Gorabor had been spared. As the newest member of the company, he’d fully expected to be saddled with the duty again. From the looks of the rest of the section, it seemed they were thinking th
e same thing.

  Benthok looked down to the end of the line.

  “Corporal Hilla,” he called, eying the archers who had met up with them just outside of the encampment. “Select one of your girls to go with the marker crew, in the event there’s any trouble. An archer may come in handy. The rest will have sentry duty while the section constructs our camp for the night.”

  “Yes, sir,” Corporal Hilla said. She stepped out of the line and pointed to a tall, dark-haired archer behind Gulda. “Cena, you’re assigned to Corporal Logath.”

  “Yes, Corporal.” She fell out of line, dropped her pack, and followed after the three skirmishers as they moved past her.

  “Corporal Thegdol,” Benthok said, “I want our camp set up over there.” He pointed to a wide, flat area, not far from the stream, which disappeared into the trees a few hundred yards away. The stream appeared to climb up the slope of the ridgeline. “I will mark out the boundaries for the trench and wall. Get us some firewood too. Once Shrike gets up here, he will want to begin cooking.”

  “Yes, sir,” Thegdol said, stepping out of line. “Corporal Gamok, take Fourth Squad up into those trees over there”—he pointed to their left—“and start working on a supply of firewood. We’ll also require stakes for the trench.”

  “Fourth Squad,” Gamok called, “drop your packs, refill your skins at the stream, and then grab your axes. We’ve got a job to do, boys.”

  “Packs off,” Thegdol called to the rest of the section. “Take advantage of the stream while you have the chance. For those who did not get my subtle hint, fill your waterskins. Fall out.”

  Without another word, the section fell out, moving towards the stream.

  The suns were straight overhead, and it seemed the clouds had gone out of their way to avoid providing any hint of shade to those laboring away. Tovak wiped the sweat out of his eyes. The trench was almost completely dug. The excavated dirt was used to build the defensive berm, which was in the process of being packed down.

  Tovak had been assigned to help dig the trench. It was backbreaking work that saw him perspiring heavily. As the burning ache in his arms, shoulders, and back increased, he found himself wondering if it would have been better to have been assigned marker duty. But then, he disregarded such thoughts. His people were of the mountains, rock, and soil. This was good, honest work and, truth be told, Tovak did not mind doing it.