7
Harriers
The sky above was gray, the air chilly enough for Quinn to require her wool cloak. When the line ahead of her moved, she shuffled forward a step. Brandt stood beside her, neither having said a word since they had joined the line. At the time, there had been fifty men and women ahead of them. Thirty minutes later, that number had been whittled down to four men while a line of more than twenty extended behind her. Standing in the heart of the square outside the Yarth citadel, the sight of citizens going about their daily lives stirred Quinn’s childhood memories of Cinti Mor.
Wagons were lined against the citadel wall as farmers sold fresh fruit and vegetables to the citizens of Yarth. Tinkers stood beside blankets filled with trinkets as they called for passersby to come and inspect their wares. Men and women carrying buckets approached the circular fountain in the heart of the square, filling the buckets before retreating. Amidst all this activity, Quinn found her attention repeatedly drawn to the children.
Divided into two groups and of ages from five or six summers to their early teens, the children’s shouts and laughter had Quinn missing her brother. One of the groups was playing Captain May I, the captain standing alone beside the fountain, his back to the other children as they took turns advancing. Quinn, Everson, and the other children in Cinti Mor had often played the very same game. Watching these young citizens of an enemy nation play the familiar game had Quinn realizing that the citizens of the Empire were not evil. The fault lies with their leaders. If, somehow, the mindset of the Empire leaders could be altered and their tireless fight against Chaos set aside, war would not be necessary.
Brandt leaned close, his voice drawing Quinn from her reverie. “If you had told me six months ago I would be joining the Imperial Army, I would have laughed in disbelief.”
Quinn snorted. “Same here. However, life is unpredictable.”
His arm wrapped around her back and he pulled her close, whispering, “Regardless of what happens, I’ll always cherish our time in Yarth.”
She smiled. “As will I. Too bad it had to end, but at least we had those seven glorious days to ourselves.”
The line advanced again, the two men ahead of them approaching a table where a man sat, wearing a dark blue outfit that reminded Quinn of Sculdin’s uniform. Armed guards dressed in the familiar chain mail and white tabards of the Imperial Army surrounded the man, surveying their surroundings with wary eyes. After a brief discussion, the seated officer handed a sheet of paper to each of the two men at the head of the line. When the two men stepped aside, Brandt and Quinn approached the table.
The seated officer finished recording something in a ledger before looking up at Quinn and Brandt. His head was shorn and he had a well-trimmed brown beard. Quinn noted the stripes on his shoulder, one less stripe than what she remembered from Sculdin’s uniform.
“You are here to join the Imperial Army?”
“Yes, Captain,” Brandt said.
The man shook his head. “I am not Rorrick. He is at base camp. My name is Lieutenant Killian, Rorrick’s second in command.” His gaze shifted to Quinn. “You wish to join the army as well?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What’s your name, girl?”
“Jacquinn Mor.”
“A Hurn name.”
“Yes. I grew up in Port Hurns.”
His gaze lowered to the sword on her hip, the one remaining after she had been forced to sell the other so she and Brandt could survive. “Do you know how to use that?”
Quinn followed the man’s gaze, her hand going to the hilt. “Yes. I have some skill with a blade.”
The man’s brow furrowed. “You appear too young to have been in the army.”
Quinn had her lie ready and recited it without hesitation. “My uncle spent time in the Holy Army. He gave me this blade and taught me how to use it.”
“And what brings you here?”
“Until recently, I was working as the bodyguard for a merchant in Sol Polis.” She frowned. “It turns out that a sword can’t protect you from poison. When a deal went bad, the woman I worked for discovered that the loss of gold carries a grudge. With her dead, I was out of a job. Three weeks later, I have yet to find another job and my coin is spent.”
After listening to Quinn’s story, he made notes on a piece of paper, dumped a bit of wax on it, and pressed his ring against it as a seal.
He then looked at Brandt. “What’s your name?”
“Brandon Tallister.”
Killian wrote the name on a sheet of paper. “What about you? Do you have any experience with a weapon?”
Brandt grinned. “Does sparring with sticks against my older brother count?”
“No, it does not.”
“Well, I guess I don’t have experience, then.”
The man wrote a few more notes while saying, “Don’t worry about it. We’ll train you to use a musket.” He poured a bit of wax on the paper and pressed his ring into it.
“A musket?” Brandt asked in a manner Quinn found quite convincing. “What’s a musket?”
“You’ll see.” Killian grinned as he extended the paper toward Brandt. “Take the papers and head north, out of the city. Take a right at the first intersection, and the road will bring you to the training compound. If anyone tries to stop you, show them the seal.”
One of the guards beside Killian announced, “Next.”
Sensing they were dismissed, Quinn and Brandt turned from the table and crossed the square, each reading the paper in their hand. Quinn’s listed the name she had given, along with the word harrier beside it.
She frowned, unfamiliar with the word. “What’s harrier mean?”
Brandt shrugged. “I have no idea. Mine is less confusing.”
“What’s it say?”
“I’m going to be a musketeer.”
With Brandt at her side, Quinn stepped into the training compound. They both paused, their gazes scanning sprawling grounds covered by a row of buildings and hundreds of tents. The nearest camps consisted of dark green tents while tents of light green, brown, and blue could be seen in the distance. A tall palisade built of logs, sharpened to points at the top, surrounded the compound. Everywhere Quinn looked, she found activity as thousands of troops trained for war.
Quinn cast one last glance toward Brandt as he headed toward his camp. She stifled a sigh, pressed her lips together, and proceeded toward the blue tents as she had been directed.
She was forced to pause as an officer jogged past, the man trailed by a regiment dressed in brown leather, each armed with a musket. The squad altered course toward the same cluster of brown tents as where Brandt was headed.
Resuming her journey, Quinn watched warriors sparring with wooden swords, the steady clacking from them a familiar sound. Another squad took turns running forward and tossing blocks of wood toward empty barrels aligned near the palisade wall. Rather than wearing armor, the men throwing the wood were covered in black save for a blue Order rune on their chest.
As Quinn drew close to the blue tents, she noticed that the warriors in the area were all women. Their outfits were padded leather, dyed a deep blue. They stood and sat in clusters, conversing quietly and ignoring her passing. She headed directly toward a tent at the center, marked by a flag waving gently in the breeze – a flag marked with a blue Order rune on a field of white. Standing outside the tent was an armed soldier – tall with broad shoulders, oversized facial features, and long brown hair pulled back in a tail. The towering guard shifted to block Quinn.
“Hold.” It was a woman’s voice, startling Quinn. “Nobody sees the commander without seeing me first.”
“I have orders from Lieutenant Killian,” Quinn held the note toward the tall guard.
The woman pressed her lips together and read the paper. “Wait here.” She then ducked into the tent.
A moment later, she reappeared, holding the tent flap aside as a stern brunette stepped out. With faint lines around her mouth and angular
, brown eyes, she appeared about ten years older than Quinn. Her dark blue leather included a white stripe on each shoulder. She wore a long, curved sword on her hip.
“I am Commander Luon. I run this unit. What’s your name, soldier?”
“Jacquinn Mor.”
The woman scrutinized Quinn with narrowed eyes. “You appear fit. I assume you know how to use a sword?”
Quinn nodded. “Yes, Commander. I have some training in that area.”
“How are you with a shield?”
“My training focused on using two swords.”
Luon snorted. “Dual blades? Those won’t do you any good here.”
“But if you just give me a chance…”
Luon poked Quinn in the chest. “Listen! You might think you have skills, but that matters little to me. Dual blade fighting is appropriate for dueling, but we are going to war. You are now a soldier in the Imperial Army. You will set aside your pride and selfish needs and dedicate yourself to your squadmates, or I will see you in shackles.”
Quinn bristled and fought her desire to break the woman’s finger. Finding restraint, she responded between clenched teeth. “Yes, Commander.”
Luon grinned. “Good. You have spirit and can temper it with self-restraint. I can work with that.” Her gaze flicked toward Quinn’s sword. “Since you have experience with two blades, I assume you feel comfortable wielding a sword left handed?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Good. That, is of use.” She turned toward the tall woman. “Liziele, please escort Jacquinn to the armory and have them issue her a uniform, practice sword, and shield. Once outfitted, I want her assigned to squad three. Tell Cleffa to have her prepared. Today’s drills begin in an hour.”
The commander spun about and stepped into her tent. Liziele put a man-sized hand on Quinn’s shoulder, her grip like a vice. “Welcome to the Harriers, Jacquinn. Come with me. You have little time to get outfitted before today’s drill.”
With a wooden shield strapped to her right arm and a wooden practice sword in her left hand, Quinn followed Liziele back to the Harriers camp. The new uniform Quinn wore chafed in places, the stiff leather not yet broken in. She found herself wondering what was used to dye the leather blue. When she lifted her shield, she noted the three white triangles on her right bicep and wondered what they might mean.
They passed four clusters of dark blue tents before Liziele led Quinn into a camp encircled by eight tents. A woman with dark hair tied in a tail stood and watched Quinn and Liziele enter the camp. Quinn noted the brunette as the only soldier in the group with yellow triangles rather than white.
“Cleffa,” Liziele said as she approached the woman. “We have a replacement for Juvi.” She gestured with her thumb toward Quinn. “Meet Jacquinn, your new squadmate.”
Cleffa was roughly Quinn’s size, with a similarly lean, muscular figure. The woman’s posture and dark complexion reminded Quinn of her training sergeant from the Torreco Academy of Combat and Tactics. Quinn realized she hadn’t once thought of Jasmine during the year since she left the academy. I wonder if Jasmine knows I was recruited to ICON. Does she even know about the organization? What has Goren shared with her?
A horn blew, a deep, reverberating sound blaring throughout the compound. The women dressed in blue leather all began shuffling about, entering their tents and exiting with wooden swords and shields.
“Drill time, soldier,” Cleffa said to Quinn. “Time to move out.”
“Wait,” Quinn grabbed the woman’s arm, stopping her. Cleffa glared down at Quinn’s hand on her forearm. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
“First, you are to remove your hand,” Cleffa growled. Quinn did it and the woman looked Quinn in the eye. “I have no time for instruction right now. Assuming you know how to swing a sword, all you need to do is watch the squads before us and mimic their action when our turn comes.” She turned away, stopping two steps later and looking back. “And don’t embarrass me.” Bending to scoop up her sword and shield, Cleffa lifted them up and pounded the shield with the wooden sword three times, sending a clack, clack, clack that drew everyone’s attention.
“Listen up, Squad Three!” Cleffa yelled while slowly spinning about. “Time to dance. Watch me, keep your rhythm, and maintain your position.” She then jogged toward an open field, followed by the rest of the squad.
Still confused by what was happening, Quinn joined the group as they circled tents and fell in with other similar squads. Each woman dressed in blue had white triangles on their bicep, some on the left, others on the right, ranging from one triangle to four. She located a cluster with three triangles all gathering around Cleffa and joined them.
“Line up, one stride apart!” Cleffa called out, her voice fighting with other squad leaders. In moments, the chaos settled into order.
Two rows of forty Harriers stood in front of Quinn’s squad, all dressed in dark blue leather. Like Quinn, each soldier had a wooden shield strapped to her right arm and held a wooden sword in her left hand. Across the field, rows of armed women waited – all similarly armed but with swords in their right hands. The scene gave Quinn the impression of looking into a mirror.
Sergeant Luon strode across the open ground between the opposing groups and began to shout out orders. “Harriers, prepare to attack! When the horn blows, squads one and five will begin. Maintain the three count and listen to your squad leader! You will continue until the horn blows a second time, and then you will retreat!”
The instructions from Luon did little to clear things up for Quinn, who remained unsure of what exactly was about to transpire. She glanced toward the center of the Squad Three row, where Cleffa was standing. The woman’s words replayed in Quinn’s head: Watch the squads before us and mimic their action.
A horn blew and Squad One burst into a run as did Squad Five, the two rushing toward each other. Just before they collided, the ranks slowed and began exchanging strikes, the clacking of wood on wood filling the air. During this process, the squad two leader was counting aloud. When she reached three, the squad sprinted toward the battlefield, as did Squad Six from the far side. Squads One and Five peeled away, spun about, and ran through the gaps between the charging squads.
Cleffa counted aloud, reaching the count of three when Squad One ran past. Quinn’s squadmates then rushed forward and she scrambled to follow. As her squad approached the middle of the field, Squad Two spun about and darted toward them. Two girls ran past Quinn, one slipping through the gap to her left, the other to her right.
Suddenly, the opposing squad was there. Quinn raised her shield urgently and blocked an attacking strike. She swung her sword, the woman facing her blocking it before she swung again. Quinn blocked with her shield, feinted with a high swing, and ducked below the other soldier’s strike. Still crouching, Quinn came around fast, her wooden sword delivering a crunching blow to her opponent’s knee. The woman cried out and fell as her teammates turned and ran away. Quinn stood over the downed woman, who held her knee and writhed in pain. Another squad rushed in, and she turned to find her own squad halfway across the field. A horn blew and everyone stopped.
Everywhere Quinn looked, women were staring in her direction. She turned and found Commander Luon stalking in her direction, the woman’s face a scowl. Luon glared down at Quinn’s injured opponent and took a deep breath before shouting. “Squad Seven! I need two soldiers to assist this woman to the healer’s tent.”
After a brief command from the Squad Seven leader, two women rushed forward and lifted the injured woman upright. Luon turned toward Quinn and grimaced.
“Cleffa!” Luon shouted.
The Squad Three leader rushed over, stopped beside Quinn, and thumped her shield hand to her chest. “Yes, Commander!”
“What happened here? Didn’t you provide this soldier the proper instruction?”
Cleffa stammered. “There was little time…”
“It’s my fault!” Quinn blurted. Luon turned toward her wi
th a raised brow. “I’m sorry, Commander. Cleffa told me what to do, but I got caught up in the moment. My dueling experience kicked in and I…I guess I went for the kill without even realizing it.”
Luon stared at Quinn for a long moment before turning toward Cleffa. “Is this true, soldier?”
Cleffa blinked, her gaze flicking toward Quinn as she nodded. “Yes. Commander.”
The sergeant snorted and turned her attention back toward Quinn. “If so, what exactly were you told to do?”
Quinn’s mind raced as she considered what she had seen from the others. “Maintain a three count, stay with my team, rush the opposing squad, strike three times, retreat, and repeat with the next wave.” She paused briefly, then added, “Only exchange blows, do not take out your opponent.”
Tension held Quinn’s breath captive while Luon stared at her with narrowed eyes. A long moment of silence passed as the other Harriers waited in anticipation.
Finally, Luon said. “Don’t let it happen again.” The commander spun about and bellowed, “Reform ranks! We will go again. I want to see ten flawless waves at full speed!”
Quinn emerged from her tent and stretched, happy to be out of her stiff leather armor. Similar to her squadmates, she wore the simple tunic, breeches, and cloak provided by the Imperial army.
The gray skies above were dark to the east, the clouds masking any stars that might have appeared. A fire illuminated the camp, fighting the approaching night. A dozen of her squadmates sat on the logs encircling the fire, the girls eating from wooden bowls and chatting.
Quinn spotted others returning with bowls and followed their path to find four lines waiting near another fire. She stood at the end of a line that inched forward over the next few minutes. The aroma of beef stew caused her to realize the depth of her hunger. When the woman in front of her moved away, Quinn stepped forward and accepted a steaming bowl, a spoon, and a hard roll before turning back to her camp.
A Kingdom Under Siege Page 6
