by Sam Ferguson
Bear nodded. “He’s right. Better to towel off the water and blood and then sew it up. We can use magic to dry it a bit where the skin has loosened and weakened too much, but we don’t want to dry it out completely.”
Ziegler nodded. “Is it bad, Bear?”
Bear scoffed. “Well, it isn’t great, but I don’t see any sign of infection or foot rot. I should be fine in a few days. We can manage here, Captain, if you want to go and make the report.”
Ziegler looked to the others for confirming nods before leaving his men.
“We’ll take care of him,” Raven promised. “I’ll go and find some healers. Bull, go and fetch a surgeon. Best to use a combination of medicine and magic in this case.” Raven turned to go straightway to where the healers would be.
Bull rose to his feet and looked at Moose. “You make sure that stodgy Master of the Keep doesn’t harass Bear while he rests,” Bull said.
Moose grinned and offered a single nod as he took a deep drag of his cigar. The end glowed brighter as the tobacco inside burned.
Captain Ziegler then turned and made his way toward the end of the council chamber. He passed the rectangular table in the center of the room without even glancing at the large map lying upon it with markings and drawings of troll camps and the proposed routes to access the Warrens. Ziegler had been in the field enough that he had the map all but memorized anyway.
He passed three doors on his left before he came to the one he wanted. He grabbed the iron ring and pulled the door toward himself. Two guards stood waiting inside a small, square room that was ten feet long by ten feet wide. A small bench sat on one wall, but otherwise the room was empty, save for the guards.
The two men took one look at Ziegler and then nodded grimly. One guard spun to the side while the other pushed the exit open. A flood of light poured into the small room. Ziegler walked through in only a few quick steps and then found himself standing in the middle of a great hall. There were several long tables in this hall, with wooden benches and chairs softened by large pillows or plush hides to sit upon. There were several officers in attendance. Some spoke amongst themselves, others played dice or cards. A few slept in the hard benches while others entertained themselves with song and drink.
Ziegler shook his head at the sight. Toles would have everyone believe that the commander was too busy to be disturbed. The reality was that nothing of importance was going on whatsoever. Ziegler removed his helmet and tucked it under his left arm as he walked between the tables toward the far side of the hall. Some of the other officers looked up at him, but no one said anything to him. Ziegler heard the whispers though, the hushed insults masked by fake smiles of greeting before he passed by. One of the officers even had the audacity to turn Ziegler’s way while holding an entire turkey leg in his hand. Captain Ziegler glanced beyond the half-eaten drumstick to see a plate piled with pork ribs and more bread than any one man could conscionably eat in a day, let alone a single sitting.
They had all become accustomed to the lifestyle, Ziegler knew. While he and a few others fought in the swamps, the officers here had found enough money to buy their way into comfortable service. Most would spend a year or two at the most sitting inside Battlegrym before they would return home as war heroes. Ziegler doubted that any of them had even thought to lift a finger to help the engineers and laborers outside building the grand palisade either. No, the officers were too busy filling their gullets with wine and meat.
Ziegler passed by the glutton, resisting the urge to simply reach out and grab the drumstick out of the useless man’s hand and eat it himself. He pressed on until he saw Dell, one of the few officers he actually respected.
Dell was seated with his back to the doorway that Ziegler had used. He was hunched over a small glass of wine and a heel of bread, talking to a young warrior. From the young man’s wide eyes, quick glances all about, and eager attentiveness to Dell, Ziegler figured it was likely some nobleman’s son that had recently arrived. The young man was the first to catch sight of Ziegler. His green eyes looked the captain over several times before glancing back to Dell.
Dell turned slowly, greeting Ziegler before he had even seen him. “Only one man that inspires that kind of look on another’s face,” Dell said. “How do you fare Captain Ziegler?” Dell finished turning around and rose up from his seat at the table.
Captain Ziegler reached out and grabbed Dell’s forearm as Dell clasped his fingers around Ziegler’s. “Dell, it’s good to see you, old friend. How are you?”
Dell smiled and his blue eyes sparkled. “I am well. Here to see Commander Kilgrave?”
Ziegler nodded and looked around the room.
“He retired early for the day,” Dell said. Dell motioned around the room by jutting out his jaw and looking at the others. “Babysitting the royals takes it out of him, you know how it is.”
Ziegler grunted. “Heavens forbid that we actually try to win the war,” Ziegler commented.
Dell nodded. “This is Jasper, he is a good lad. He’s going to join my scouts.”
Jasper rose up instantly, shooting a hand over his heart. “An honor to meet you sir,” Jasper said.
Ziegler nodded, but he didn’t offer even so much as a smile to Jasper. “Your scouts?” he asked Dell. “I thought you were the commander of the guard here at Battlegrym.”
Dell nodded. He gently turned Ziegler around to point at the officer still gnawing on the turkey drumstick. “That there is the official captain of the scouts. However, other than assign names on a roster and pretend to look at maps, all he does is eat.”
“What’s his name?” Ziegler asked.
Dell shrugged. “I don’t remember his name, but I can think of a few things to call him.”
Ziegler turned back around to face Dell. “So you are running the scouts unofficially then?”
Dell nodded. “I have good men who are willing to work hard, and I don’t mind pulling double duty.”
“Where is Kilgrave?” Ziegler asked. “I need more men.”
Dell whistled through his teeth. “That didn’t take long, did it?” Dell looked over to Jasper and motioned for him to leave. “Go and set yourself up in your quarters, son, I’ll be along after the guards change shifts and assign you to a trainer.” Jasper nodded and hustled out of the chamber while Dell and Ziegler watched. “He’s a good one,” Dell commented. “He is determined to fight the trolls, but he is smart enough that the whole mess scares the living stuffing right out of him too.”
“I am sure you will mold him into a proper scout,” Ziegler said.
Dell shook his head. “This isn’t the same war our fathers fought,” he said sadly. He cast his eyes around him. “We always had those of privilege buying their way into comfort while others fought the trolls, but it has gotten out of hand lately.” Dell leaned in to whisper. “The palisade is Kilgrave’s idea, he is willing to fortify Battlegrym and do what it takes to hold on to her, but there are others who would rather give up the castle and the position.”
Ziegler started to respond, but Dell shook his head and motioned for the door.
“Let’s get some air, away from prying ears,” Dell whispered.
The two of them walked back toward the door, silent as they moved out of the hall. As they passed by the large man with the mountain of food on his plate Ziegler stopped.
“Don’t,” Dell whispered, but it was too late. Ziegler had already set himself to it.
Captain Ziegler reached down and snatched the drumstick out of the man’s hand and took a great bite out of it himself. The officer huffed and protested, shouting and grunting.
“Who do you think you are?” the officer bellowed. “You can’t do that!”
Ziegler bit into the drumstick and held it between his teeth. His right arm went to his left sleeve and he pulled the wet cloth up over his muscular arm to reveal a cover of tattoos, each in the shape of a skull. He then reached his left hand down and pulled up the left side of his tunic just enough so that the of
ficer sitting before him could see that the tattoos also covered the left side of Ziegler’s torso.
The officer blanched and turned away.
Ziegler put his clothes back in place and then reached over the glutton to take the rest of the man’s food. “Meat should be for those who actually earn their living,” Ziegler said softly enough so that only the glutton could hear. Nobody made a move to stop him as he took the food out from the hall.
“Was that necessary?” Dell asked as he closed the door behind them.
Ziegler shrugged, marching directly to the group gathered around Bear. He pushed his way into the throng and set the plate on the couch beside him. Bear looked down at the food and then thanked Ziegler with a nod.
Ziegler then turned to Dell.
Dell’s eyes went down to Bear’s foot and he shook his head. Then he pointed to a door on the opposite side of the hall. “Come, we can talk in my room.”
The two went through a series of doors and halls until they finally approached a small room appointed with a circular table large enough for two, a short bookshelf with hardly any books upon it whatsoever, and a simple bed.
“Where are the others?” Dell asked.
Ziegler finished the drumstick before answering. “That’s why I need more men,” he said. He looked around for some place to put the cleaned bone.
Dell thumped a finger on the table. “Just set it down. I’ll get it later.”
Ziegler nodded his appreciation. “So what were you saying before?”
Dell sighed and shuffled to the bed, lowering himself down and shaking his head at the floor. “The wizards can’t stop the monsoon around Battlegrym,” he said.
Ziegler couldn’t believe his ears. He moved to the table and sat down. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said,” he replied. “The rain is too strong. The wizards can’t clear our skies for more than an hour or two a day, and that isn’t nearly enough to keep Battlegrym from going under.”
“Going under?” Ziegler questioned.
Dell sighed and nodded. “The castle is sinking. The rains over the past couple of years have become so intense that the ground is swallowing Battlegrym. If we don’t win the war against the trolls, or maybe even if we do, Battlegrym is lost. She is going to be swallowed into the ground. She has already sunk more than half a foot since you left. Didn’t you notice?”
Ziegler shook his head dumbfounded. “How can that be?”
Dell threw his hands up in the air. “The rains have doubled in ferocity. The castle is so large and heavy that as the ground softens, Battlegrym can no longer support herself. Kilgrave has turned to the palisade as a way to help us stay here and fight, but that isn’t a viable solution to replace Battlegrym. Once this castle sinks, or if her weight causes her to break open, then the trolls will easily overrun this position. The best the palisade offers is a fair warning.”
“What does King Roan want to do?” Ziegler asked.
“Kilgrave was ordered to abandon Battlegrym. King Roan wants us to fall back to Fort Sym. That way we can bolster the kingdom’s defenses and stay out of the monsoon’s reach.”
“Fort Sym is hundreds of miles to the north,” Ziegler countered. “Roan wants us to abandon all of that country?”
“It is lost anyway,” Dell said with a flare of his hand. “The rains are changing the landscape. What was once a nice forest with rich farmland is being turned into swamp. The Murkle Quags are growing day by day. Soon they will swallow everything between here and there.”
Ziegler folded his arms and grunted in disgust. “So what do we do? We just forget about all of them? We turn tail and run away now, when we are so close?”
Dell stood up and held a hand out, patting the air. “No, Kilgrave won’t go for it. He has bargained with King Roan. You have one more chance.”
Ziegler propped his feet up on the table and leaned back in the chair. “How did Kilgrave know I was coming back?”
Dell shook his head. “No, he didn’t. But, given your past performance, he thought you might. Either way, he bargained with King Roan and convinced him that if you came back, you could have one more expedition.”
“What if I didn’t come back?” Ziegler pressed.
Dell smiled and he held his hands out to the side. “Then yours truly was going to lead the final expedition.”
Ziegler smiled. “Was that your idea? Don’t you have a wife back home to return to?”
Dell’s smile faded and he shook his head. “Actually no, I don’t.” He moved to the bookshelf and slid a few books out of the way to reveal a metal flask. He held it up and offered a drink to Ziegler. Captain Ziegler waved it off. Dell shrugged. “I suppose that this last year was the longest she was willing to wait. When she heard that I extended for another two years of service, I received a letter saying that she would not be home when I returned.”
“I’m sorry,” Ziegler said.
Dell nodded and took a drink from the flask. “Me too.” He sat on the table near Ziegler’s feet and stared at the floor for a few moments. Then, as Ziegler watched his friend, Dell’s frown broke and the beginnings of a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.
“Why are you smiling?” Ziegler asked.
“Oh, I was just having a bit of fun at your expense. You know my Elise would never do something like that!” Dell slapped Ziegler’s feet hard enough to shove them off the table and Captain Ziegler’s chair came crashing down on all fours. “Still a gullible pup, I see.”
Ziegler slapped his hands on the table to steady himself and then rose to his feet. “That really isn’t funny,” he said.
Dell took another drink. “Go on, Kilgrave is up in his room. I am sure he is busy trying to figure out who he would assign to the final expedition. He could use your help.”
“You aren’t coming?” Ziegler asked.
Dell shook his head. “No, I am going to change the guard soon. The shift is almost over. I’ll be along once I have a trainer assigned to that Jasper fellow I introduced you to. You should probably be informed though, that this expedition isn’t going to be underway tomorrow, or anytime soon for that matter.”
“Why is that?” Ziegler asked.
Dell gestured grandly with his hand, spilling a bit of amber-colored liquid from the top of his flask. “Because Kilgrave wants this to be his legacy!” Dell shouted. “The final expedition is to go down in the annals of our kingdom, to be remembered as his greatest endeavor. Kilgrave has convinced the king to double the recruits this year. All of the new ones being trained are coming here. You are going to have the largest command of your career. Why, Kilgrave himself would go with you, if not for the fact that his right leg was bitten off by a croc years ago and his wooden stump would only get stuck in the mud. Go on, go see for yourself what he has planned.”
Ziegler nodded and left the room.
Dell watched him go and after the door closed the man sighed deeply. He reached into his left pocket and pulled out a folded letter. Dell’s smile faded as he slid his thumb under the fold to open it up. He took another drink as he read the words on the page again. Tears formed in his eyes and he drained his flask and then set the metal container down on the table.
“Oh Elise, why’d you have to go?” he asked. He had told the truth about his joke, for Dell’s wife had never been unfaithful. However, he had also told the truth about no longer having a wife to return to. The letter was from Dell’s sister, who lived with Elise, informing him that she had contracted a terrible disease over the past winter and passed away.
Dell rubbed the letter with his fingers and then slid it into his pocket again. “Perhaps I will meet you soon enough,” he said with a sober glance to the heavens.
Chapter 4
Jonathan sat on a grassy knoll overlooking the large canvas tents set up in the field. He rubbed the large welts forming on his left arm and watched as other young boys ferociously fought each other with wooden swords. Everyone in Holstead was gathered for the event.
/>
Jonathan had already lost his duel.
Now he sat watching helplessly as other boys earned points and the recruiting officers took note of which boys would be chosen this year. Jason had already fought in several duels, and he had won each of them. Jonathan was certain his older brother would win the title of best swordsman in Holstead. He had never seen him lose to anyone before.
The tournament lasted for a couple hours while Jonathan watched from a distance. As he predicted, his older brother was handed the golden sword. It wasn’t really made of gold, Jonathan knew. It was simply a wooden sword painted in gold. Jason had done it. He was in. There were three competitions that would grant the winner automatic acceptance into the army, the rest of the boys would have to acquire a certain number of merit points from each event to buy their way in.
The crowd cheered and lauded Jason as they had at every victor before. Lord Bingham himself gave Jason the golden sword.
After the short celebration, Jonathan rose to his feet and gathered his bow. It was time for the archery tournament. Even now he could see the targets being placed at the different distances. One would stand at twenty-five yards, another at fifty, and the final at seventy five.
Jonathan hustled to the tent where the tournament would be tallied and scored. Others arrived in the tent before him, but he was still among the first half of Holstead’s young men to sign up. After he was assigned a turn, he moved out to the line and watched as the first competitor lined up. It was Clavert Runton, another famer’s son. He was a bit older than Jonathan, but he was not as skilled at archery as Jonathan was.
Someone bumped into Jonathan from behind. He turned to see Fremon Blaire, the boy who had decisively beaten him at swords.
“I’ll look forward to trouncing you again,” Fremon said.
Not more than half a second after he said that, Jason walked up and shoved Fremon out of the line. “Oh sorry, didn’t see you there, Fremon,” Jason said sarcastically.
