by John Ringo
“Keep your eyes on the steps!” a voice from the rear called.
Afraid that he’d leave a gap, Herzer put his head down and started toiling upward.
The pace was brutal and it was a long way to the top of the hill. Before he was even a third of the way up Herzer was sweating and blowing again, pushing hard against the weight of his body and the pack. He barely noticed the first person to have stopped, but when another person blocked his way he blundered into them, nearly knocking them both down.
“Get out of the damned way,” he snarled, stepping around them and hurrying to catch up to the group ahead of him. Suddenly the group stopped, just as he reached the trailing person and he nearly fell over again avoiding another collision, then the group started off again, faster than they had before and he perforce had to hurry to catch up. His legs felt as if they were on fire and when he looked around he realized that they had barely come half way.
This went on and on in starts and stops as more people fell by the wayside, panting and gasping and clutching their sides. Herzer could feel a sharp pain growing in his own side but he willed it down and concentrated on maintaining his breathing and keeping up with the person in front of him. Suddenly that person fell out as well and Herzer realized there was a gigantic gap ahead of him. He struggled to catch up to the leading figure but he could barely maintain an even pace. He didn’t dare look back, knowing that somewhere behind him was that hard-faced, gray-eyed bastard, probably hoping that he’d fall out.
His vision was starting to gray and sweat was pouring down his face to such an extent that he never even noticed when there wasn’t another step. As the wind blew across his face he stumbled forward, only to be caught and lowered to the ground.
“Take a rest,” Donahue said in an even tone, clearly not even out of breath. Herzer looked up and him and the bastard was hardly sweating. “There’s water in your rucksack. Drink it.”
Herzer nodded and slipped his arms out of the pack, looking around as his vision started to clear. They were in a clearing at a lower summit of the hill with a clear view of the river on one side and Raven’s Mill at the other. Besides the stairs they had come up, there was another set that went farther up the hill. Donahue and the man he’d identified as the gunnery sergeant were to one side of the clearing, talking. Other than them, there were only three others on the top of the hill. One of whom was Deann, who was bent over retching.
Herzer slipped his arms out of the rucksack and fumbled at the closures with fingers that felt like they were the size of watermelons. Finally he got it open and pulled out a water-bag. He sipped at the contents and then took a solid swig of the water that had been cut with wine.
“Keep your seats,” the gunnery sergeant said, walking over to the group. “Quit trying to throw up and drink some water, girl. You all may be wondering why we’re trying to kill you. It’s very simple. Someday, your enemies will be trying to kill you. There is an old saying: The more you sweat, the less you bleed. We are going to sweat you like you’ve never been sweated before. Most of the people who signed up for this thought it would be a cakewalk, like the guards in town. Nothing but standing around and looking pretty for the girls. Plenty of them had been reenactors playing at being Vikings or Picts or medieval knights. But that word is: Playing. We’re not going to play and we’re not going to be any of those pansies for sure. We’re designed to be the first line of defense for Raven’s Mill; the line that nine times out of ten is the only line the enemy will face. The line that any enemy will break its teeth upon. A line that will die in place rather than give a foot of ground.
“This training is designed to produce cadre for legions. Each of you will see your fair share of fighting, but what we’re really working to produce is the future leaders of the legions. Leaders that are harder and scarier than the hardest and scariest force on earth.
“So we’re going to winnow you out. When we’re done, we’re going to have only those who refuse to quit, no matter what we throw at them. Soldiers that are so hard that they’d rather die than surrender or give any less than three hundred percent.
“And this is not the last test, or even the worst, that you will face. But only the strongest, the hardest, the most determined, will make it.
“There are two ways down from this hill. One is the way that you just came. The other is up another hill and down the far side. In just a moment, Sergeant Donahue and I will ascend the hill. From the time we reach the top, you will have seven minutes to join us. Those that join us in less than seven minutes will put their feet on the path to being Blood Lords. Those that do not may someday join the legions, but they will never be leaders and they will never be the elite.
“It’s up to you.”
With that he picked up his pack and started up the stairs at a lope.
Herzer watched the old man trotting up the stairs and shook his head. He looked around at the small group on the top of the hill, wondering who would be the first to struggle to their feet. As it happened, Deann was already there. She just kneeled down to get her arms in the straps and then, still retching, staggered towards the steps.
“Crap,” he muttered, pushing himself up. He got the rucksack up, somehow, and followed her.
Around the turn of the first bend she was bent over, dry-heaving, but still managing to put one foot in front of the other.
“Come on,” he said, taking her elbow.
“Leave me alone,” she muttered between retches. “I can make it.”
“If you’re stupid enough to keep going, I’m stupid enough to help,” he replied, hooking an arm under her rucksack.
Weaving back and forth, they both staggered upwards towards the summit and their future.
* * *
Edmund chuckled as Gunny collapsed in the chair across from him. “You look like hell, Miles.”
It was early evening and Edmund wondered how much longer he was going to be stuck behind the desk today. The supply situation had improved somewhat, between the influx from the roundup and a few caravans from nearby towns. But the demand had increased from the Resan refugees and a steady trickle of others. Getting farms into production was a top priority, but defending them, given the reputed size of the Resan raiders, was very close to the same. And spies had reported that Rowana was definitely getting some sort of support from the New Destiny Alliance. Which meant that sooner or later the two towns were going to come to blows.
“Thank you so much,” Gunny growled, leaning back with a sigh. “I’m getting too old for this shit. Running up hills is a young man’s game.”
“Don’t tell me you took the Hill?” Edmund said, startled. “I gave that up fifteen years ago; there’s only so much medical science can do without a complete rebuild!”
“Well, I had to prove to them that I was tougher than they were,” Gunny said. “I just dread having to do this with every class!”
“How’d it go?”
“Not bad, we’re going to have sixty or seventy in the first group. The team I followed had young Herzer in it. I wanted to see if you were right.”
“Was I?” Edmund asked, reaching into a drawer. “You look like you could use a belt.”
“I never turn down free hooch.” Gunny chuckled. “And, yeah, you were right; he can hang. He ended up dragging one of his friends all the way to the top. I think she would have made it on her own so I didn’t jump his ass. But while he didn’t exactly carry her, he was definitely a support. He’ll do.”
“He’s acting like the devil is on his tail all the time,” Edmund commented, pouring out two glasses. “There’s more to whatever went on with him and Daneh than she’ll tell me. But watch him; he’s liable to do something stupid and heroic. We need all the trained troops we can get; losing that one to his own stupidity would… annoy me.”
“Will do,” Gunny said, downing the bourbon. “Not bad.”
“I laid it down years ago,” Edmund replied, taking a gulp himself. “How are the rest of the recruits?”
&
nbsp; “They made it to the top of the hill which means they really want to be here. We’ll just have to see how they train up.” He paused and frowned. “I sometimes find it difficult to remember that we were once as foolish as these young folks.”
“Yep,” Edmund admitted. “And the reality of it is that you have to have people as foolish as this because we’re no longer dumb enough to do what has to be done.”
“The scary part is that they look up to us,” Gunny said, chewing on his stogie. “We’re like Gods to them. Some of them know, intellectually, that we’re just as human as they are. And a few can even figure out that once upon a time we were Just Like Them. The better of them, sure. But not even like the best.”
“Yuh,” Talbot grunted. “It seems like the best of our old companions didn’t make it this far.”
“And when we were like them, somebody that we looked up to kicked our ass into line. We are born in imperfection, Edmund.”
“We are that,” Edmund grimaced. “And no matter how hard I have tried, I think we’re going for the simplicity of imperfection.”
“Clarify?” Gunny said. “You’re not talking about the training program, are you?”
“No,” Edmund sighed. “The Constitution of the United Free States has been drafted. It’s got provisions for both aristocracy and de facto feudalism included. No matter what I did.”
“Does it directly affect us?” Gunny said.
“Only in the aristocracy provisions,” Talbot snarled. “I managed to include a provision that local governments could declare themselves ‘serfdom free’ within their local charters. We’re chartered in Overjay, a geographical area with Washan, Warnan and a few others, including Rowana, which is not a member.”
“What about military forces?” Gunny asked, cutting to the part that was important to him.
“Well, I got an amendment that full voters have to show capability to use arms, but the feudal states got a provision that ‘secondary citizens’ are to be unarmed and they count towards their voters even if they can’t vote. Local citizenry raises its own weaponry and provides for its own defense. Professional military forces swear oath to the United Free States. And I’m pretty sure I’m going to get the Academy listed as a part of the professional military force.”
“What about the legions?” Gunny asked. “Is that going to be the main force? Or are we going to have to take whatever comes to a muster?”
“Well, the question is, who is going to be in charge?” Edmund replied with a chuckle. “The secret here is to have the best plan at the beginning and get the forces formed around yours. We’ll have more than legions in the long term, but hopefully that will be the core force. On the other hand, the Kents have gone almost entirely towards cavalry. If we can get them to join the UFS, and they’re balking badly, it would be stupid to put them on foot. On the other hand, most of the city states are concentrating on infantry. And who’s got the best infantry?”
“We do,” Rutherford said, assuredly.
“That’s right.”
“So,” Gunny said, changing the subject. “How’s Daneh?”
“Getting weird on me.”
* * *
When Edmund got home, his curtains had been replaced.
Indeed, on walking into his front room, he wasn’t sure he was in the right house. The furniture had been rearranged, two of his favorite tapestries were gone and the big table that he was wont to pile stuff on until he figured out what to do with it had disappeared.
Daneh was in the middle of the room, on her hands and knees, measuring the floor with a piece of string.
“What are you doing?” he asked, carefully.
“Measuring for carpets,” Daneh replied, making a note.
“I like tile,” Edmund said.
“I know you do,” Daneh replied, getting up off her knees with some effort. She had started to show lately and it was affecting her balance. “But, do you have any idea how uncomfortable tile is when your ankles are swelling and your feet feel like your arches are falling?”
“You’re not that far along, yet,” he temporized.
“No,” she smiled. “That’s why I’m measuring for carpets now.”
“Is this a pregnant thing?” he asked, carefully. She had had a tendency to snap his head off lately if he asked searching questions about her “delicate condition.”
“I don’t know,” she replied cheerfully. “But whether it is or not, you’re getting carpet.”
“And where is it coming from?”
“I met this nice girl named Shilan who is one of the apprentice weavers. And since the sheep dropped and we’ve got a bit of an excess of wool at the moment, and since the new powered mill is experimenting with different weaves, she thought she could get me some piled wool carpet. That’s where the curtains came from, too.”
“And my tapestries?” he asked cautiously.
“They’re out in your workshop,” she answered. “What do you want for supper?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
After a hearty dinner the recruits spent the night in bunkhouses that had been cleared out for them and were woken before dawn by one of the sergeants walking through, banging on a metal shield.
“Up and at ’em, rise and shine, it’s another beautiful day in the legions,” the sergeant said. “Ten minutes for the jakes then fall out in front of the barracks.”
Herzer lined up for the latrines — there were only two seats available for the whole group — then washed sketchily in a rain barrel. Finally he joined the mob in front of the bunkhouse.
“We’re not going to try to move you around in formations, yet,” the sergeant said after doing a headcount, “because you’d just be falling over your own feet. So if you’d just follow me in your customary cluster fisk and try not to fall too far behind, we’ll go get you in-processed.
The gaggle followed him to a series of buildings near the base of the western hills. These were more substantial than most of the “temporary” buildings that had been thrown up to handle the refugee influx and Herzer suspected they had supported the annual Faire. They gathered outside the first and then went in one by one.
The room inside had been separated into two by a series of rough tables. On one side were a few civilians and on the other were piles of rough cloth and more than twenty women hastily sewing uniforms from it.
“My, you’re a big one,” the man who seemed to be in charge said. “Katie, I’m going to need an XXL for this one,” the man called, pulling a string from around his neck. “What’s your inseam, big-boy?”
“I have no idea,” Herzer replied. “What’s an inseam?”
“The length of the inside of your thigh,” the man replied, squatting down and measuring it. He chuckled at Herzer’s discomfort. “That’s exactly why I told the silly gunnery sergeant you weren’t to strip until after this bit! I need a forty-four inseam, Katie!”
“He’ll have to do with a forty-six or so,” the woman behind the counter said, handing over some gray clothing, a cloth bag and some sundry cloth strips.
“Take this and change behind that curtain,” the man said, turning to the next recruit in line. “Put your civilian clothes in the bag. Keep your shoes on.”
“What about the rest?” Herzer asked.
“Just hold onto it and go to the next room.”
Herzer changed into the baggy clothes, noting as he did that there were two more sets just as badly made, and hitched the pants up as far as he could with his belt. After that, carrying his “civilian” clothes, money pouch and the other uniforms, he went into the next room.
“Put your old clothes and anything else you were carrying except money or valuables into the bag,” a man said abruptly. “Didn’t you listen?”
Herzer quickly complied and held the bag up. “What now?” The room had a large number of similar bags piled on one side, the table the officious man was at, a burning candle and a stack of badly constructed wooden chests. And that was it.
The man
took out leather ties and a candle. “Tie this around it, seal the ties with the wax, put your fingerprint in the wax. When you’re done with training it will be returned. Put your uniforms in the footlocker and carry it with you.”
Herzer did as he was told. Then the man took the bag and handed him one of the chests. “Next room.”
“Ah, very nice boots,” the man in the next room said, kneeling to examine Herzer’s footwear. “You probably would be better off keeping them but orders are orders. Take them off and let me measure your feet.”
Herzer sat in a chair and looked around as he took them off. There were several recruits in the room being fitted for boots but he didn’t see any boots in sight.
“Uhm, where are the boots?” he asked as the man pulled out string and started taking measurements.
“They’ll have to be made, won’t they?” the man chuckled. “It’s not as if we have warehouses full. Big feet; you’re going to use up most of a cow, boy.”
“Sorry.”
“Not a problem.”
Herzer continued through room after room, occasionally moving to different buildings and being outfitted or, more often, measured. Helmet, cloak, blankets, underclothes and cloths to wrap to replace socks. They did have a helmet his size, although it wasn’t fitted on the inside and rolled around on his head until he removed it and stowed it in the footlocker. The locker was getting heavy by the time he completed the circuit and emerged back into the sunlight. Some of the rest of the recruits he had spent the night with were waiting, most of them sitting on their footlockers, as well as the sergeant who had moved the “gaggle” over.
“What now, sir?” Herzer asked.
“We wait for the rest, of course.”
Herzer took a seat and looked at the group that was there. He hadn’t had much time to get to know them the night before and he wondered if they were all going to be in his training unit.
