John Ringo - Council Wars 01 - There Will Be Dragons

by There Will Be Dragons(lit)

  "Yeah."

  "Well, I didn't even know it was going on, so this is all kind of new."

  "You can apply for a land parcel, too," Mike said. "I don't know if it's a good idea or not. But if you apply for one that is next to ours, I can try to break and work both of them. You have to pay for the land in increasing size of payments. I don't know if I'd be able to work both of them, but I could try. And if it does work, I can split whatever profits we got off of it with you. And that would give you another source of income. Someday."

  Herzer thought about it for a minute and then nodded his head. "Okay, hang on a second. Tell you what I'll do. Courtney, there's a pouch in the cupboard. Could you pull it out and toss it to me?"

  She handed it to him and he dumped out the tokens that were in it onto the bed.

  "I'm going to go for soldier," he said, sorting out the money that was in it into full tokens and change. "And from what I've been told, everything is going to be issued to me. But I got paid for the day before the roundup, the roundup and three days of convalescence. As a 'skilled rider,' no less. So I got a bonus on the roundup." He pulled out a full token and change and handed the rest to Courtney. "You guys can have whatever I get off of the lottery and I'll file a land grant alongside yours. That," he continued, pointing to the chits, "is a loan. There ought to be enough there to get you a few spare farm tools. And a few decent tools might a big difference."

  "Thank you," Courtney said, looking at the money as if it was fairy gold.

  "Aaah, I don't know about this," Mike said. "I was going to ask if you could do a loan on the lottery animals, but I don't know about this."

  "Oh, hush," Courtney snapped. "Just say 'thank you,' you dummy."

  "Seriously," Herzer said, shaking his head. "You don't even have to say thank you. Like you said, you're going to try to work both farms. If you can do it, and I've got a feeling you're going to do well at it, then long term that means that not only is there, as you put it, a little extra income coming in, but in the old days soldiers used to dream of retiring and buying a farm. And I'll already have one!"

  At that Mike laughed and shook his head but he obviously wasn't convinced.

  "And on the cash I said it was a loan. You pay me back when you've got the money, but not until you're free and clear on everything else. I know you're good for it."

  "Okay," Mike said, finally, shrugging his shoulders. "With that I can get some stuff that will help out. Woodworking tools, parts for a stump-jumping plow, spare rope. And if the lottery doesn't work out, we can put it all on a draft animal."

  "So how's farm life suit you?" Herzer asked, changing the subject.

  "Hard," Courtney replied. "I mean it's just constant. There's always something to get done. But." she shrugged. "I agree with Mike; it's better than the other stuff we've done."

  "I don't know," Mike said. "I could probably do woodworking or construction, something like that. But you do all of that with farming."

  "Would you go back?" Herzer asked, crinkling his brow. "I mean, if everything suddenly turned back on? If you said 'genie' and your genie appeared?"

  Mike thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. There are days when I wake up and wonder where I am for a second 'cause it's all wrong, then it all comes back to me. And, man, those are some rotten days."

  "Yeah, me too," Herzer said. But there was an odd note in his voice.

  "Why am I unconvinced?" Courtney asked with a chuckle.

  "Ah, it's hard to explain," Herzer admitted. "If I could just throw a switch and turn everything back on and have it go back to the way that it was, would I do it? Yeah." He sighed again and shrugged. "But. Hah! There'd be days I'd wake up and wonder where I was for a second; then it would all come back to me. And those would be some really bad days."

  "That's weird," Mike said.

  "Yeah, well, it's a long story."

  "And one you're not telling today," Rachel said from the doorway.

  "Oh, Rachel, come on!"

  "The term is bed rest, not bed activity," Rachel said, then blushed. "That wasn't what I meant to say."

  "I couldn't tell," Courtney laughed.

  "I am resting, look!" Herzer said, leaning back in the bed. "See. Rest."

  "Do you know what this idiot did the other day?" Rachel asked Courtney.

  "I haven't a clue," the girl replied with a smile. "What did this idiot do?"

  "He helped my father in the forge for four hours."

  "Oh, now that was a good idea!" Courtney said.

  "It wasn't that bad," Herzer complained. "So I got a little headache."

  "I think you used the term 'blinding' at one point?" Rachel asked. "Something about purple spots? Bed rest. Bed rest."

  "Okay, we get the point," Mike said. "We're going."

  "Herzer, I'll write up those agreements and get them over to you," Courtney said. "Thanks again. Get somebody else to look them over for you and make sure it's what you want before you sign them. Then I'll get them registered at the courthouse."

  "Okay," Herzer replied. "I trust you guys. But if you insist on getting it written down."

  * * *

  Herzer wasn't sure if it was by intent to make sure he was in the first class, but the day after Dr. Daneh stated that he was "fully recovered" the first call for recruits went out.

  Herzer was at the recruiting station just after dawn the next day, walking up and looking around with interest in the predawn half-light. The recruiting station was a simple table in front of a group of tents, most of which had lanterns hanging in front of them. There were about a half dozen standing around who had beat him there. One of them was Deann.

  "Decided to go for soldier?" he said, walking over and sticking out his hand, grinning.

  "We were working in the tanneries," Deann admitted, taking it and shaking it hard. "I decided I had to find something else when the head tanner pointed out that once you lost your sense of smell things got a hundred percent better."

  Herzer chuckled and looked around at the group, which was about half youngsters like himself and Deann and about half older. There wasn't much physical difference in the individuals, but it was noticeable in little ways, stance, gestures. With modern technology, people didn't start to get "old" until they were well past two hundred. Herzer wondered how much of that was "built in" and would stick and how much was nannite generated and would go away with the Fall. For now, the "oldsters" seemed to be holding up.

  They waited in companionable silence as others filtered up. Deann was the only one he knew by name, but several of the others nodded their heads at him as if they recognized him, which was odd. He was having a hard time adjusting to lots of people knowing him on sight.

  "You're still the talk of the town," Deann said, chuckling quietly after one of the older arrivals had come by and tapped Herzer on the shoulder wordlessly.

  "All I did was herd a few cattle," he muttered, shaking his head.

  "Bull," she answered with a grin. "I made five chits off of you myself. Nobody thought you'd survive the first tiger. The way you were charging around, nobody thought you'd last half an hour."

  Herzer's face worked but he didn't reply because about then the tent flap opened, revealing a figure in armor in the doorway.

  "Step up to the table, give your true name, true age and answer the questions," the figure said brusquely. He stepped to the side as two women took up seats at the table.

  Herzer waited for the line to form and took a place near Deann. The process was slow and he realized there was probably going to be a lot of waiting around today.

  Finally it was his turn and he stepped up to the table. The sun was up by then and his belly rumbled, reminding him that he hadn't gotten any breakfast this morning.

  "Herzer Herrick" he said. "Seventeen." Barely, he didn't add.

  "Okay, I think I can put you down as experienced with horses and a bow." The woman chuckled.

  "I'm not an expert." he temporized.

  "Not an expe
rt, got it. Do you have any other skills you would like to list?"

  "I am trained in individual swordsmanship," Herzer said. "Enhanced reality training. Some with a spear."

  "And lance," the woman said.

  "Not lance," the figure in armor said. "That was luck as much as anything. His seat was bloody awful."

  Herzer cast a quick glance at the man. He was an oldster, he had white hair and wrinkles even, but he was a hard-ass, that was clear, wearing a loricated armor, armor made of curved plates that overlapped like the carapace of a centipede. Herzer wanted to dispute his statement, at least mentally, but he really couldn't. It had been lucky. The man was just being brutally honest. And astute.

  "Do you know the fashioning of arms and armor?"

  "No, I didn't even put it on myself in training," Herzer admitted. "And I don't know that much about caring for horses. I can ride, though."

  "That is true," the armored figure said.

  "Anything else?" the woman asked.

  "No."

  "Step into the tent and follow the directions you are given," she said, handing him a folder. "Hang onto that," the woman continued in a rote voice. "You've just become a record and that is it."

  * * *

  Herzer held onto his file and passed through the stations. There was a test of reading and writing, a simple test of strength involving mostly lifting various weights and then a physical examination. He submitted to this last with good grace; at this point he was so used to being poked and prodded that it just didn't seem his day was complete unless someone told him to stick out his tongue and say "aaaah." The examiner was one of the nurses being trained by Dr. Daneh who had turned up from time to time during his convalescence. She was a pretty enough brunette with the annoying habit of talking with her teeth clenched. She had been friendly enough during her visits but was professionally distant during the examination. Right up until the end when she chuckled.

  "Given that Dr. Daneh did a complete exam a couple of days ago, this one seems pretty unnecessary," she said, making some notes on a piece of paper and slipping it into his file.

  "I wasn't going to say anything," Herzer replied with a smile.

  "Well, other than needing some exercise, you appear to be perfectly adequate sword fodder," she said with a frown in reply. "Do me a favor and don't get yourself killed. We've got a lot of work invested in you."

  "Well, since you care so much, I'll try really hard not to."

  "Okay," she smiled. "Through that door."

  Herzer passed through the door into the outside, finally, and saw a small group of recruits milling around, one of whom was Deann. There was a man in mail, light helm and leather bracers who seemed to be in charge of the group and he nodded when Herzer appeared.

  "That's twenty," the man said. "You lot, follow me."

  The area behind the examination tents was a large, recently cleared, stump-covered field in the northeast quadrant of the Raven's Mill valley. One end of it had been set up with archery butts at various distances, each with a number at the top, and the man led them to a table where a series of bows were laid out. At one end of the table was a water bucket and a half barrel filled with arrows, the fletchings in multiple colors and patterns. To Herzer's eye something about the fletchings looked wrong.

  "My name is Malcolm D'Erle," the man said when the group was gathered around. "Today I will be testing you on your ability to draw and fire bows. We're not really expecting anyone to be able to hit anything. We just want to see how much basic capability you have to draw and fire."

  Herzer saw that, blessedly, there were some gloves and bracers laid out with the bows.

  "This," Malcolm said, picking up one of the larger bows, "is called a longbow or a self-bow. It is so called because, as you can see, it is very long. The reason for its length is that the arrow has more distance that it can be driven by the spring of the bow. Shorter bows have less distance of travel and therefore can impart less energy to the arrow. This type of bow will, for the time being, be the basic bow of the Raven's Mill Defense Force archers. There are a couple of aspects to it. One is that it is a very strong bow, and difficult to draw. Especially repeatedly as is necessary in combat. The other is that it requires a person who is of normal male height or greater." He looked around the group and then at Deann. "You, young lady, for example, I don't think have much of a chance; you're just too short."

  Deann grimaced at that and growled. "But you are going to give me a chance, right?"

  "Of course. Now, does anyone here have any experience with bows?"

  After a moment when no one else raised their hand, Herzer did so reluctantly.

  "Oh, yeah. The guy on the horse. Where did you learn?"

  "I was doing enhanced reality training before the Fall hit," Herzer replied.

  "What do you normally use?"

  "During training I used a one-hundred-kilo composite recurve, sir. But my muscles are out of shape and I don't think that I could handle that in my current condition."

  "A hundred kilos? Well the good news is, I don't have one that strong so we won't be finding out if you could or not. I brought these other bows out just to show them to you," he continued, setting down the long bow. He picked up one of the smaller bows and bent it in his hands. "This is a short bow, which, as you can see, is shorter. It is otherwise similar to the longbow. The major difference is the distance an arrow can be thrown, the damage that it does and the amount and type of armor it can pierce. Mass fire of short bows are useful against groups of unarmored enemies. But unlike the longbow, just about any decent armor, including rivet mail, will shrug it off."

  He picked up another bow that was about the same length but was broadly curved. "This, on the other hand, is a short, composite recurve bow. It is a much stronger bow and has a long draw. It uses sinew backing to give it extra strength. In the case of this one, it is made out of horn and sinew with a thin strip of wood in the middle. It is a very strong bow and quite as powerful as the longbow. However, they are extremely difficult to construct, require materials that we don't have available and tend to suffer from damp. They were used primarily by steppes horse archers for a reason. The steppes were dry, the bows could be used from horseback and they had the appropriate materials in abundance while lacking much wood."

  "I'll let you take a look at the other bows as the tests progress. What we're going to do is take a shot at the target marked with the seventy-five. That is at seventy-five meters."

  He took the longbow and drew an arrow from the barrel, nocking the bow and raising it.

  "Note that I bring the arrow to my cheek and push the bow away from me," he said. "And also, notice that I'm aiming well above the target." He let fly with the arrow and it sunk deeply into the target on the right of the bullseye near the edge of the target.

  "These arrows could be considered a test in themselves," he said grimly. "They're the first output of our apprentice fletchers and quite lousy. But all you have to do is get the arrow to the distance of the target. If you can do that, we'll do some more testing. Those that can't draw the bow, or even hold it off the ground, will be passed on to the next phase of testing."

  "Can I ask a question?" Herzer said.

  "Please."

  "I take it that anyone who passes the test becomes an archer?"

  "Both tests. This test and there will be a timed test. You have to draw and fire fifty arrows in ten minutes. If no one can do that, then we'll back off of the requirement."

  "Can you?" Deann challenged.

  In response Malcolm removed ten arrows and thrust them into the ground in a semicircle around him. Then he drew and fired all ten, driving each into the target, several close to or into the bullseye.

  "I need to find out which ones were on," Malcolm commented dryly. "Those apprentices made decent arrows."

  "What if you don't want to be an archer?" Herzer asked.

  "We need archers," Malcolm answered. "Just about anyone can swing a sword. Archers are practically
born, not raised. If you can be an archer, you're going to be an archer. You can quit but you can't choose not to be an archer."

  Herzer opened his mouth to protest but then closed it with a clop.

  "You start," Malcolm said, handing him the bow.

  Herzer examined it for a moment and then took up a glove that more or less fit and a bracer.

  "I used him as a demonstration for a reason," Malcolm noted. "If you don't use a glove at first, you'll turn your fingers into mush. And you'll never get over the need for a bracer. The bowstring slaps against the inside of your arm with each shot. In fact, metal bracers are arguably necessary for combat archery, although they should have something on the inner side to shield the bowstring."