"Maybe not that you were thinking, just that you were thinking wrong, perhaps." I held back a laugh; Pheran was considering what he might do to me for being disrespectful to the Lord Marshall. In all honesty, I wanted to give him a hug, but that would be undignified and improper before his officers, several of whom were gathering to see who'd arrived.
"It has been more than a year since I last saw you, young one. What was I supposed to think?" Pheran frowned at me.
"No idea. Has it been that long? I've been busy."
"Doing what?"
"Well, the last eight moon turns or so, I had to convince several villages to move out of harm's way. That wasn't easy, especially when they didn't believe they were in harm's way," I said. I had done that—Neaborians in the past hadn't taken well to my explanation that their destruction was imminent. "They know better, now," I added.
"I take it some stayed behind?"
"Yeah. Those I couldn't convince. They're dead now."
"Someday, you may have to tell me that tale," Pheran said. "Are you here to join my little party?"
"Yes. That is exactly why I'm here."
"Good. I have plenty of tents, just not enough people. I wanted eighty, I have half that."
"What's the word on the number of the raiders coming across the borders?"
"I have mixed information. One of the men sent down from the mountains says that twenty attacked their village and ransacked it; another says he saw twice that. I don't know if their numbers are growing, if they hold some back, or if the men who reported the attacks are exaggerating. Hard to tell, actually." Pheran shaded his eyes; the sun overhead was definitely a bother. "Have you learned to like beer, yet?" he asked.
"No, it still smells the same to me," I grinned.
"Well, you can come watch me drink, then," Pheran motioned for me to follow him, after ordering an aide to take my horses to the picket lines.
I received a mug of water, and I did watch Pheran drink his beer. He only had one, and I listened while he told me that six small villages had been attacked and robbed in the past eight-day. In the first two, the inhabitants had been left alive. The last four, many had been killed.
"You got here just in time," Pheran informed me. "We ride out tomorrow. There are some of the suppliers here; we'll take four wagons with us instead of the original eight, and that'll take care of us until we get into the foothills. We'll be forced to travel lighter after that, and in the higher elevations we'll go by foot. The horses will just be a hindrance past that."
I sipped water and nodded at Pheran's explanations. "We'll make our last major stop in Heatherfield; it's a major city, believe it or not—all the wool and fur is brought down the mountains and traded there. There's a good road leading in and out of it, and merchants send in grain, cloth and other goods to exchange. There are some good bow makers there, as well. Can you shoot a bow, Devin?"
"I was never taught, no," I shook my head.
"If there's time, perhaps I'll teach you," he said. "I know you don't eat meat, but the rest of us may survive in the mountains by hunting."
Pheran got his second-in-command, Graywing, to show me to an empty tent. "I go by Gray," he said after I'd bowed to him and then followed him at his command. "The night meal will be in two clicks. We'll ride out just after sunrise, so get up early if you want breakfast. We won't be stopping for the midday meal until we reach Heatherfield. We won't find any major sources of water between here and Heatherfield, so a wet cloth at the end of the day is the only bathing we'll get until then," he went on. "We'll be hauling the bulk of the water for the horses. We shouldn't run short, as long as the rules are followed."
He stopped in front of an empty tent. "You get a private tent tonight; we have more than enough, but that'll change tomorrow. We all get a tentmate, beginning tomorrow night. No sense hauling around what you don't really need." Silently, I agreed with him. Pheran didn't need to wear out his animals or his troops. After marking where my tent lay in respect to the others, I went in search of my pack.
I found Shield, the master of horses, and his assistant, Rafton, who pointed me to my belongings—they'd been stowed in a safe area away from the animals. The saddle and other tack they kept with them; Rafton had already polished it and rubbed down my horses, so I thanked him politely and told him I owed him a favor.
He grinned at me; he couldn't have been more than sixteen, at the most. He explained that he wouldn't be traveling into the mountains with us—he was charged with taking the horses back to Heatherfield, once they weren't needed any longer.
After hauling my pack to the tent, I pulled out cleaning supplies—I intended to have a bath while there was still plenty of water. I'd saved a clean gah, too, so with soap, comb and gah in hand, I went in search of the bathing tents.
Winning the Solstice Trials meant my leathers and gahs were now black—I was considered a well-trained warrior by Falchani standards. Crane had requested that all Falchani with the Saa Thalarr attend the ceremony, where I was given black leathers for the first time. He'd also presented the throwing knives. Dragon, the attending Warlord, had given a Falchani blessing after that. I never told them, but I felt embarrassed during the whole thing.
Grateful that only three others were in the bathing tent, I dumped water over my head, washed myself and then set about combing my hair—the scent of food was wafting through from the cooking tents and I was hungry. I'd settled on a small, wooden stool to comb out my hair before dressing in my gah—I'd almost gotten the tangles out of its length when Pheran came in for his own bath. Politely refusing to look as he found a stall across from mine, he undressed quietly while I pulled on my gah.
* * *
Pheran watched Devin shamelessly, smiling as she kept her gaze pointed downward. She'd have to lose that modesty if she were to become the Warlord's mate.
* * *
The cooking tents were a bustle of activity when I made my way there after dropping my things off at the tent. Wearing a pair of light slippers, I avoided patches of dust wherever possible as I had no desire to wash my feet a second time before going to bed. I saw several others doing the same.
A bowl of noodles with vegetables was served when I asked for no meat and then sat at an empty table to eat. Brief thoughts of Camala surfaced as I dipped chopsticks into my food. I'd already searched the tent—I was the only woman in Pheran's hunting party.
"Didn't I see you at the Trials, a year ago?" A broad shouldered man set his plate of food on the table across from me. He wore the long braid and bore the typical, Asian features, although there was quite a mix in Pheran's troops. I noticed all colors of hair, from blond hair to black, and everything from shoulder-length to braids hanging nearly to the waist.
"I was there," I nodded.
"I had to leave after the third day," he said. I held a mental breath—I had no desire to trade war stories this early in the assignment. "Went back to my unit," he went on. "That was a bad sun-turn. Half our people wiped out in the battles." He dipped into his pork and noodles.
"I heard," I said. Crane and Dragon had given me that history. The enemy had thrown everything they had at the Falchani, and they'd barely fought them back. I'd learned by Looking that if it hadn't been for Dragon and Crane, with their tactics and subterfuge, the war wouldn't have gone their way. "I'm sorry you lost friends," I said.
"Yes." The man looked down at his meal. "We fought hard and won, even with so many losses." I nodded and went back to my food.
"Name's Evret," he held out his hand. I took it.
"Devin," I said.
Two more came along to join us, both of whom Evret knew. The tall, brown-haired man with a short braid was Athar; the other, an older warrior with gray in his long black braid, was called Watcher. They were old hands at this, I learned.
They talked about the food, and when they'd gotten better—and worse. They talked about the weather, and when it had been better—and worse. They talked about the trip, the small number of volunteers; a
ny number of things. Only Watcher had ever been in the mountains before, however, and he talked about how cold it could become, the heavy snows that fell, some even early in the fall.
I knew that Falchani had an average lifespan of around two hundred sun-turns. Watcher, I learned by Looking, was one hundred sixty-five. He'd been a soldier since he was nineteen and didn't know any other life.
After finishing our food, we handed our dishes to the cook's assistants and left the tent. The sun was still two hours from going down when Evret asked me if I played Irzu.
"I play, just not in a while," I shrugged.
"Don't take her on," Pheran said, stalking past us to get to the cooking tent. "She'll have you in less than an hour."
Evret bowed to Pheran as he walked past, as did Watcher and Athar. I almost forgot to bow, but remembered before it was too late.
"He's so quiet, he could sneak up on a deer," I muttered. The others agreed with me.
"Come on, you can watch me and Athar play Irzu," Evret invited, so that's how I spent my first evening under Pheran's command, watching Athar beat Evret, two out of three in Irzu.
* * *
Our journey started at dawn the following morning, and I realized it was to get as much traveling time in before the heat became a problem. We stopped to water the horses at midday, but just as I'd been told, there was no midday meal—we wouldn't get that until we arrived in Heatherfield, days from now.
I found myself nearly in the center of Pheran's troops. Gray arranged us in five rows of eight, with the supply wagons coming up behind us. I and the others in my row tied cloths over our faces so we wouldn't breathe the dust kicked up by the horses in front of us.
We rode the remainder of the afternoon without a stop, which meant my ass was sore as I climbed off my horse. When I'd traveled alone, I'd stopped often to walk and let the horses drink and rest. Pheran was pushing us and I felt those last few miles more than I wanted to.
At least I knew how to ride well—Crane had insisted on it. "This will make you a good candidate to go out on assignment to worlds that may require someone to infiltrate the army, if you're needed to help take down spawn," he'd told me. Shannon had helped at first, giving me lessons on how to sit a horse by volunteering to turn to the Palomino Unicorn. Crane and Dragon had then gone out and found a mount for me, and it had been stabled in the building that had once housed Gilfraith's flock of sheep.
I'd learned quickly how to stay on a horse, mostly so I wouldn't be shouted or laughed at by Crane and Dragon. Adam had taken a liking to the horse; a gelding named Cinnamon, and had kept him to ride occasionally. Adam still had fond memories of riding in his youth, before being made vampire. As for Cinnamon, he'd hit the horsie lottery when he landed in Adam's stable. He was treated well, exercised regularly and had treats from too many.
I was responsible for my horse once we were on the road, but my pack pony had been left behind. I could only carry what would fit in the pack behind my saddle while in Pheran's company. That didn't matter to me—the supply wagons carried food and water for the troops. I no longer had to do that for myself.
When we stopped for the night, Gray assigned me to Watcher's tent. He treated me just like any other soldier, and I was grateful for that. Like Dragon and Crane, he didn't see gender; he only saw a fellow warrior. I was eternally grateful that Watcher didn't snore much, and it was soft when he did. I could sleep through that with little effort.
My first day, I learned what it was like to travel with an army. The men around me burped (often loudly), passed gas whenever they needed to and urinated from horseback (after riding off to the side, thankfully). I also learned what it was like to dig trenches as a nightly duty.
Although I didn't have any need for the trenches, I had to make it appear that I did so the others wouldn't question. I'd leave the tent before bedding down for the night on the excuse that I was going to the trenches. I never said I was making use of them, so no lie was involved.
Traveling days were filled with heat, dust and horse dung. There was no sparring the first two days; the heat had been nearly unbearable and Pheran had simply ordered everybody to cool down as best they could after taking care of their mounts. I was happy merely to wash off the dust with a cool cloth on those evenings.
The third day, however, turned out cooler, so Pheran called a halt early and got everyone settled in so they could spar before the evening meal. That was the first time he also called for me to come and practice with him.
Pheran sent Gray to collect me; he had no other information and hadn't been to the Trials the year before. He'd stayed at the front, fighting off the enemy. I knew by watching his face that he figured Pheran would make quick work of me.
"You ready?" Pheran grinned at me when I arrived—his blades were in his hands before I'd come to a full stop after trotting toward the sparring squares. Thankful that I'd expected a swift engagement, I pulled my blades quickly to fend off Pheran's first blows.
I'll admit to being a bit rusty—Dragon and Crane were out on assignment and eight months had passed since I'd lifted a blade. Pheran wasn't going to let me wimp out, either—he had a glint in his eye that told me he was taking his revenge now for the Solstice Trials loss.
"Are you going to let me get away with that?" Pheran pushed me back. I went on the offensive, beating Pheran back to his side of the sparring square.
"How long are you going to whine?" I asked. Gray, who watched nearby, had to look away to hide his grin.
Our bout went on for more than the prescribed half-click; Pheran knew I wasn't at my best but didn't push it. Gray called a halt about ten ticks past time, leaving Pheran and me panting and sweating in the square. I bowed to Pheran, thanking him for the bout. I wanted a bath in the worst way, and there wouldn't be one waiting.
With another nod to Pheran, I cleaned my blades and resheathed them before stepping out of the square.
* * *
"Who is that?" Gray asked Pheran as he cleaned his blades.
"The girl who won the Trials last year," Pheran answered, a wide grin on his face.
* * *
Watcher had already cleaned up and was resting when I walked into our shared tent. Unbuckling the straps holding the sheaths, I let them slide off my shoulder before stretching and flexing. Pheran had given me a workout I wouldn't forget for a few days, unless I greatly missed my guess.
My leathers came off next, before I dampened a cloth with a bit of water from my water skin and wiped off as well as I could. Cheating just a little, I employed power to clean my underarms and the naughty bits. Nobody said I couldn't, after all.
Watcher and I went to dinner together afterward. We ate sitting cross-legged on the ground—the tables and chairs had been sent back to the regular army with the other unneeded items. Evret and Athar seated themselves across from Watcher and me to eat. They followed us to our tent when we finished, and that's when Evret remarked on the dragon tattoo on my left shoulder.
"I didn't think anyone was allowed a dragon tattoo," Evret commented.
"I didn't put that there," I replied.
"Kind of hard to tattoo your own back," Athar nudged Evret.
"You know what I'm talking about," Evret grumped. "I mean, we're not going to tell anybody, but it's a good thing we're not anywhere near the Warlord right now. It's law that a warrior can't wear the same tattoo the Warlord does. I'm surprised you got anybody to do it for you."
"I didn't get somebody to do it for me," I said. It was obvious that part of the dragon was visible around my sleeveless gah. I hadn't even considered it when I dressed that way before going to dinner.
"Then how did it get there?" Evret wanted to know. "I promise I won't tell," he added.
"Somebody else ordered it put there, I didn't," I said, dropping to my thin mattress on the floor in the usual cross-legged style.
"You're saying that somebody else told the artist to put it there, and you sat still for it?"
"I had to," Devin said. "Did y
ou come by just to bother me or what?"
Evret laughed. Sometimes, you had to call their bluff. I was doing my best to do just that.
"No, we came by to see if you'd spar with us tomorrow," Athar replied.
"I will, if I'm not called away like I was tonight," I said. "Gray came to get me so I could spar with someone else."
"He does that, sometimes," Evret nodded. "If he thinks somebody needs work, or wants to watch an evenly matched pair, or somebody that he hasn't seen fight before, to see how they're doing."
"Well, he hadn't seen me fight before today," I agreed. "Now he has, but that doesn't mean he won't come and get me again, you know."
"We do know," Athar said. "But if he doesn't, we want to spar with you."
"Fair enough," I shrugged.
Evret and Athar talked for a little longer, then left to find their own tent and beds. I sighed. Watcher, who'd been lying on his own mattress, his eyes closed through most of the conversation, spoke now. "You'll have to tell them sometime," he said. "I know that mark. The Warlord himself had that put there." He turned over and went to sleep. I stared at him, likely with a stunned expression on my face.
* * *
We met merchants' wagons on the road the following day, loaded with wool, furs and leather. Pheran stopped and spoke with the guards and the merchants; he and Gray ended up having tea with them while his small force watered the animals and took a brief rest break.
We hit the main road five days into our journey, and it reminded me of what the Roman roads across Europe must have been like. At least the carefully built stone thoroughfare cut down on the dust. It also meant that the forty-six of us were strung out a little more, but there were only wide fields on either side and any approaching enemy could be seen for miles.
* * *
I got my first taste of guard duty the second night on the main road, so I yawned while checking my horse and talking with Rafton. He and Shield cared for the draft horses, plus Pheran and Gray's mounts. My four hours of guard duty occurred before sunrise, and it's always difficult to wake from a sound sleep and trudge off to the camp perimeter, only to struggle to keep eyes open and watchful for the enemy.
Other Worldly Ways (Anthology 1) Page 13
