“Let’s talk after we get a little farther away,” said Will, looking back at the camp. The anxiety in his uncle’s voice made it hard for him to reply calmly.
Will’s deflection undid the older man and Johnathan’s face crumpled. “They’re dead, aren’t they?”
“Sammy is safe,” said Will, his eyes downcast. “Aunt Doreen got her out in time. She shot one of the men after Sammy with your crossbow before—” He couldn’t finish the sentence. “She saved Sammy,” he said at last.
His uncle’s breath was coming in great, heaving gasps, and his next question was almost unintelligible. “And little Doug?”
Will could barely see his own feet, his eyes were so blurry. “He was really brave. He tried to protect them.”
“He was only ten,” whispered his uncle. “What kind of monsters would kill a child?” Will’s uncle sank to his knees.
A quarter of an hour passed before Johnathan Cartwright was able to stand, and when he did he started back toward the camp.
“Where are you going?” asked Will.
“I’m going to kill those bastards,” said Johnathan. “I can’t do it alone. The army is the best way I can think of.”
“Sammy needs you,” said Will. “Mom needs you. I left them alone back there.”
“They didn’t come here with you?”
Will shook his head. “They’re living at the old hermit’s cottage.”
“That’s not safe!” said his uncle, his voice rising. “The Darrowans will sweep the whole valley.”
“I need to tell you some things, Uncle Johnathan,” said Will, glancing around to see if anyone was nearby. “But not here. Come with me. Please?”
His uncle hesitated briefly, then nodded his head and followed Will away from the camp and down the road that led toward the mountain pass. They were almost to the spot that was closest to the spring when his uncle stopped. “How far do we need to go?”
Will met his eyes evenly. “I can take you to them.”
“How? It’s too late to cross the pass. There will be soldiers guarding it.”
“Magic,” answered Will. “Can you trust me?”
His uncle’s face wavered between fear and anger. “I knew it. That old man really was a warlock, wasn’t he? I don’t want anything to do with demons or black magic.”
“He wasn’t a warlock,” insisted Will. “He was a wizard, and he did teach me a little. I know enough magic to get you back. It’s a shorter walk than the one from your house to my mom’s if you’ll let me show you.”
“What did you sell for your power?” asked his uncle.
After everything he had been through, Will was beginning to lose patience. He wondered if that was why Arrogan had always been so grumpy. Every day that passed, he felt like he understood the old man better. “I didn’t sell anything. One of the fae helped me.”
“The fae?”
“Do you want to see Sammy and Mom or not?” asked Will, exasperated. “I’m not a warlock. I haven’t sold my soul, and even if I did do something stupid like that it wouldn’t have anything to do with you.” Angry, he stalked away from the road, heading toward the spring. After a moment he heard his uncle start to follow.
When they reached the spring, Will stopped. “There’s a door here. I’m going to take your hand and—”
“I don’t see a door,” protested his uncle.
“That’s why I have to take your hand,” said Will. “I’ll take you with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“We’ll be in a field. From there I’ll lead you across the field to a cave. Inside the cave is another door that you won’t be able to see. When we cross again, we’ll be back in our world, near the old man’s house,” Will explained.
“You’ve lost your mind,” said Johnathan.
Tired of explaining himself, Will grabbed his uncle’s hand and wrenched them both sideways into Faerie. He was rewarded by the sight of his uncle’s jaw going slack as the older man stared around him at the sun-drenched field.
“How did…” began his uncle.
“Come on,” urged Will, starting forward. “It’s not entirely safe here. The sooner we cross back the better.” When they entered the cave, he once again felt as though something was watching him. “It’s me,” he announced. “This is my uncle. I’m taking him to stay with Mom and Sammy.”
His uncle was uneasy, but he couldn’t help but ask, “Who are you talking to?” He froze when he heard the deep rumbling coming from all around them.
“Just stay calm,” said Will. “He just wants to make sure we are who we say we are—I think.”
Again, Will heard the sound of something large sniffing the air, and then the presence vanished. Wasting no time, he pulled his uncle forward and twisted them back, and they appeared next to the tree behind Arrogan’s garden. He felt some of the tension release from his shoulders.
“Past all those brambles and bushes is the old hermit’s house. Mom and Sammy are there,” said Will, pointing out the way for his uncle.
“Aren’t you coming with me?”
Will shook his head. “Mom will throw a fit if she sees me. I kind of left without telling her. Tell her I’m sorry.”
His uncle started to grab his wrist, but Will twisted through the congruence, taking himself away. He had no intention of getting caught up in that conversation. He’ll tell Mom I’m safe. That’s enough, he told himself.
Chapter 37
Not having a place to sleep, Will wound up reporting that evening instead of the next morning, and after briefly being sworn into the king’s service, he found himself in a large tent that was one of many. At a guess there were nearly twenty men inside, and while they were all strangers what really bothered him was the fact that there wasn’t a bed in sight.
The sergeant that had led him in handed him a bedroll. “There’s some space over there. You’ll be assigned to a squad tomorrow, but for tonight you’ll stay here.”
“Will I get a regular bed then?” asked Will.
The sergeant let loose an evil laugh. “Soldier, ain’t none of us got beds around here. Why would you be any different?” When he saw the look on Will’s face he continued, “There’s nearly eight hundred men in this camp. If this was a garrison there’d be beds, but not here. Get used to it. Whenever we eventually have to move, it’ll be worse.”
The bedroll turned out to be a piece of oilskin with a heavy wool liner sewn to one side and a separate blanket rolled up within. It also had extra strips of leather along the edges that seemed to serve no purpose. There was no pillow.
Glancing around, he saw that some of the others had a bag of some sort that they used to rest their heads on, so he asked the man next to him about it.
“That’s a kit bag. They’ll give you one tomorrow. You keep your necessaries in it, but it makes a shitty pillow too.” The soldier laughed after he said it, though Will didn’t see the humor.
The next morning Will woke with a sore neck, shoulders, and back. The sergeant was yelling for everyone to muster in front, and he had no sooner put on his boots on and run out than he was told to return and roll up his bedding. That turned out to be indicative of his day as a whole. One of the officers appeared and began calling out names and listing assignments.
Most of it meant nothing to him, so he waited patiently until he heard his name called. “William Cartwright, Company B, Fifth Platoon, report to Sergeant Nash.”
As he had seen the last man do, he stepped forward and headed to the left, only to be quickly corrected and sent in the opposite direction. He felt awkward and foolish until he finally found the correct sergeant to line up behind. Sergeant Nash turned out to be a relatively short, clean-shaven man with broad, square shoulders and deep-set, serious eyes. Unlike most of the trainees and soldiers that Will had seen thus far, the sergeant wore a metal breastplate over his gambeson and thick leather vambraces on his forearms. Will was the only one lined up behind him, while the other sergeants had three or four ne
w recruits each.
Fifteen minutes later the assignments were finished, and Sergeant Nash led him away without a word. After a short walk, he stopped in front of a large tent. “This is Barrentine’s Fifth. You’re in Sixth Squad. Corporal Taylor will handle you from here,” said the sergeant.
“Thank you, sir,” answered Will, but he paused before entering. “Is that all?”
Sergeant Nash’s eyes focused on him then, as though he hadn’t really seen Will before then at all. He looked up and down, then stared straight into Will’s eyes. “Did you expect a welcoming party, trainee?”
“No, sir, I just—,” Will stopped, unsure what he meant to say.
The sergeant gave him a sterile smile, displaying a flat line of teeth that did nothing to warm up the chill in his eyes. “Fine, here’s my advice, trainee. Don’t fuck up. Embarrass me in front of Captain Barrentine or the lieutenant and I’ll flay the hide off your bones. Dismissed.”
“Yes, sir,” said Will. He remained still, uncertain what to do.
“That means get your ass inside and find Corporal Taylor,” barked the sergeant, then he turned and walked away.
Will did as he was told, ducking through the front flap of the tent. Inside were several dozen men, all of whom turned their eyes to him as he entered, making him feel entirely too conspicuous. His ears picked up a few words from the background chatter, primarily ‘fresh meat’ and ‘another kid.’ A heavily muscled man who looked only a year or two older than Will called out to him, “Which squad?”
“Uh, Sixth, I think. Are you Corporal Taylor?” asked Will.
“Shit squat,” someone muttered, but Will ignored them as the man that had addressed him answered, “I’m Corporal Grim of First Squad. Sixth beds down in the back corner over there on the right. Taylor is the skinny guy sitting next to the giant.”
Will followed the other man’s eyes and spotted a familiar figure, Tiny, sitting on a bedroll in the rear of the tent. He nodded to Corporal Grim. “Thank you, sir.”
“Save the ‘sirs’ for the sergeants and officers,” said Grim. “If a corporal tells you to do something, you do it or get your ass kicked. Other than that, you don’t need to kiss ass.”
“Um, thanks,” said Will. He started for the back, eager to say hello to Tiny.
One of the other soldiers stood up and stepped in front of him as he made his way down the center. The man had a receding hairline and stubble so dense it was on the verge of becoming a beard. “You a private contract?” asked the stranger, his tone slightly belligerent.
Will nodded. “I enlisted yesterday. My name is Will, Will Cartwright.”
“You a merchant’s son or something?” asked the man.
Will shook his head. “No, why?”
“You must have money if you bought that gear,” said the soldier.
“He took it off a Darrowan soldier he killed,” said Tiny, stepping up behind Will.
The soldier snorted. “Probably looted it from a corpse.” Then he glared at Tiny. “I ain’t afraid of you, big man.”
“Bickler, sit the fuck down,” growled another man standing up nearby. “I’m sick of your shit. Private or conscript, we all bleed the same.” Will noticed that the man speaking had a black stripe painted across one arm of his coat, identical to the one that Corporal Grim had.
“All right, Bradshaw,” said Bickler. “I was just introducing myself. No need to get pissy.” Bickler returned to his spot and sat back down, muttering to himself, “Fucking rich kids.”
Will followed Tiny to the back of the tent, and the skinny man that had been pointed out stood and offered his hand. “I’m Corporal Taylor. Welcome to Sixth Squad. Since you already seem to know John Shaw, let me introduce you to the rest of the squad.” He waved his arm toward two other men, both of whom Will recognized. “This is Dave Wilson and Sven Fausk.”
“We met already, sir,” said Will.
“We was locked up together,” snickered Dave. “We’re old friends now, ain’t we, Cartwright?”
Will grimaced. “I wouldn’t go that far.” Sven started laughing when he heard Will’s reply.
“All four of you were locked up?” asked Corporal Taylor. “No matter, we’re all on the same team now.” The corporal seemed slightly anxious, and Will wondered how long the man had been in the King’s Army. He wasn’t about to ask, though.
A horn sounded outside, and everyone got hurriedly to their feet. Taylor glanced at Will. “Just drop your bedroll and kit bag over there. It’s time for muster.” Then he paused. “Where’s your kit bag? Never mind, we’ll get that sorted out this evening.”
Will had hoped that breakfast would be first, but he was disappointed to find out that wouldn’t be for another hour yet. He was even more disappointed when he learned why someone had called Sixth the ‘shit squad.’ Their first duty for the day was digging new latrines and filling in old ones with ash and soil.
Corporal Taylor provided useful information as they went about their task. “Since this is a long-term camp, we dig the trench five feet deep so it will last a week, hopefully. Today is the worst since we’re digging a new one and filling the old, but tomorrow we won’t have to do much aside from add some ash to keep the smell down. When we’re in the field, we only dig them a half a foot deep and we fill them back in each day before we move.”
“Do the squads rotate latrine duty?” asked Will hopefully.
The corporal chuckled ruefully. “Afraid not. It’s not as bad as you think, though. The other squads aren’t resting on their laurels, they’re busy digging and hauling for earthworks. We only have to dig this hard one day a week.”
“At least they don’t have to smell shit while they work,” complained Dave.
The trench they were digging was almost six feet in length, which made it a considerable task since it would also be five feet deep. Will stared at the other five latrines nearby. “Do we have to do all of these?”
“No,” answered the corporal. “Each company digs its own. Those belong to the other platoons in Company B.”
“Why aren’t they out here digging theirs then?” asked Dave.
“Each platoon does theirs on a different day, so we don’t get in each other’s way. Usually we use our own, but if one fills up too quick there’s always a new one just in case,” explained the corporal. Then he added, “Make sure it’s five feet deep or deeper, though. The worst fights are often over latrines if one of the platoons starts slacking.”
It took them a little more than an hour to complete the job, so they were one of the last squads to line up for breakfast. The food was much better than Will had gotten in the constable’s lockup, being a pottage of peas, carrots, and ham. The ham was present in spirit only, being noticeable only by its flavor and the occasional bit of fat or gristle. They were also given a large portion of boiled cabbage and turnips. His grandfather would have probably had a much more severe opinion, but Will was simply grateful to finally have a full belly.
He felt a little guilty when he saw Tiny staring forlornly at his empty bowl just a few minutes after they had started eating. The big man probably needed more food, but the servers didn’t make allowances for size when they scooped out the portions. He resolved to try and save a little for Tiny at the next meal.
The rest of the morning was taken up by a demonstration and then practice taking down and then putting up the platoon tent. They were also instructed in how to load the same into a wagon.
Sergeant Nash was quick to disabuse them of the notion they would be taking their own tent with them. “If and when we actually get the order to move, don’t think you’ll be sleeping in such luxury. We only bring large tents like this for the mess and similar things. On campaign you’ll be sleeping in smaller, five-man tents. Do any of you have questions?”
Will held up his hand and heard several men nearby groan quietly, ‘idiot.’
“Trainee, you don’t need to hold up your hand. This isn’t a school. If I ask for questions just speak up,
” said the sergeant. “What’s your name?”
“Will Cartwright, sir. Where are the smaller tents? I haven’t seen any.”
Sergeant Nash’s face lit up with obvious enthusiasm. “I’m glad you asked!” Turning, he waved his arm at another wagon, covered with a heavy tarp. “Over here behind me you will find thirty of those self-same tents, enough for every squad in the company. Next we will go over how to properly set up camp with those tents. When we’re done, you’ll be able to unload a wagon and set up in less than fifteen minutes.”
Will received a number of dirty looks from the soldiers nearest to him. It’s obvious we’d have been doing this anyway, he observed silently. He resolved to refrain from asking too many questions in future, though. He figured it probably wasn’t a good idea to stand out.
After lunch they spent the afternoon learning drills. The main goal seemed to be to teach them how to move in a line without getting separated, which turned out to be harder than he thought. Learning the commands was easy, but learning what to expect from the men on either side of him was where the difficulty came in.
To make matters worse, Sergeant Nash kept pointing him out, though whether it was because the sergeant liked him or because he simply didn’t know the names of the other soldiers, he wasn’t sure.
“Stop!” yelled Sergeant Nash once again. “No! Don’t anyone move. Stay where you are. I want everyone to take note of what a sloppy bunch of fuckwits you are!” He walked along the front line, stopping in front of Will.
“See this man here? He’s where he should be. Look at your positions. Some of you are in line; some of you are so stupid you probably don’t have any idea what the word ‘line’ means.” The sergeant pointed at Dave, who was to Will’s right. “You! What’s your name?”
“Dave Wilson, sir.”
“Trainee Wilson, does your mother know what a sorry excuse for a soldier you are? Straighten up! Square your shoulders and get that shield in line! By all the gods, your daddy’s dick was probably limp by the time you were conceived, judging by your lazy ass! In fact, it’s probably a goddamn miracle you didn’t dribble down your momma’s leg and end up as a stain on the bedsheets.”
The Choice of Magic Page 29
