Half of the group answered, “Oblahar.”
“Right,” continued Ollie. “It’s a small town in the western mountains. Most of the residents either raise cattle and horses or grow wheat. No nobles or easy living there. And what about King Barash?”
This time all of the recruits spoke at once. “Palassiren.”
The pale kid asked, “What’s your point?”
Tjaden wondered the same thing, but knowing Ollie, he had something in mind.
“Well,” said Ollie. “One is perfectly suited for military life and has protected the kingdom for two decades. The other excels at sitting on a throne and ordering servants. I think the answer’s obvious.”
The dispute erupted into a free for all, each trying to be heard above the others. Tjaden listened to the conversation with one ear, but his real interest was in his fellow recruits. They ranged from confident and friendly Brin-Dar to the pale young man who was haughty and poised, to a rigid, subdued eleventeen-year-old named Chism.
The old man, probably in his mid-thirties, sat next to Chism. Tjaden couldn’t figure out why anyone, even a wild man, would pick such a small boy as a Fellow. Until the boy grew half a foot, he wouldn’t match up with the next smallest recruit in a fight. As he tried to figure out the lad, Tjaden saw that the boy ate meticulously. Pick up fork, then knife, cut meat, stab, lift to mouth, lay down fork, lay down knife, wipe mouth twice. He repeated the pattern with every bite. Each time he laid down the knife and fork they were perfectly straight.
I guarantee his blades are free of rust and his forms with weapons are precise. There were things he could learn from each one of the recruits, whether Elite or Fellow.
Rodin joined the group, and again Brin-Dar was the first to make introductions. As soon as the last recruit was finished, Rodin went to work like a bear with a barrel of salmon. Rodin and Zarin—Tjaden caught the pale young man’s name the second time around—became instant friends and rivals. For some time the only interruptions in Rodin’s recounting of valor were Zarin’s tales of incomparable skill.
They droned on and on.
“That’s almost as good as the time I rescued a baby black bear from a cougar. Its mother came along thinking I was the threat! I fought her off without hurting her too badly.”
“Oh yeah? When I was hunting a pair of Jubjub birds I stumbled into a grizzly den—”
“And I once slew eight giants with a single arrow!” Ollie interjected loudly, referring to the legend of Bindle Surebeam. Everyone at the tables laughed uproariously at Ollie’s audacity.
That won’t make him popular with those two, thought Tjaden. But Rodin and Zarin got the point and yielded a portion of the conversation to the group.
As they finished dinner the recruits returned to their barracks, eager and apprehensive for the following day.
The next morning, Tjaden and Ollie arose and donned their new uniforms. Both wore pale blue. Not the hallowed colors of Elite or Fellow, and roughly fitting, but a peacock with a thousand tail feathers wouldn’t be prouder of his attire than Tjaden was to be outfitted in soldier’s garb. After inspecting every inch of each other’s uniforms for dirt, scuffs, and stray threads they made their way to the Assembly Hall.
Tjaden entered the hall and stopped, gazing at the huge vault of the auditorium. He’d never seen a room so large and wondered how the ceiling could stay up. What supports it?
Ollie interrupted his astonishment, urging him to take his seat alongside the other recruits.
On the stage of the Assembly Hall were two rows of twenty-one chairs in front of a large Circle and Sword banner. Some of the Elite recruits were already seated in front of their Fellows. Tjaden was shocked to see the young boy, Chism, in the front row and his gray-haired companion in the rear with the Fellows.
The walls and columns were adorned with pale blue, to match the recruit uniforms, and midnight blue for the Elites. A half dozen Elites stood at attention along each wall. Nearly two hundred people were in attendance, mostly family of the recruits. The hall could’ve held ten times that number.
A lieutenant, Markin by name, opened the ceremony by reading the names of all twenty-one recruits. After enthusiastic applause from the audience, Lieutenant Markin introduced Captain Darieus to more thunderous applause.
“Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends, the young men seated behind me have been chosen from thousands of candidates across the kingdom. Each one has already proven himself to be a superb fighter. They will soon join the preeminent fighting force not only in the kingdom of Maravilla, but in the world.”
More applause.
“Even at their young age, the recruits seated in front of you have accomplished many admirable tasks. Collu endured twelve rounds in Palassiren’s tournament this year, winning every match. Polane single-handedly killed a voracious wolf while defending his family’s flocks. Our youngest recruit, Chism, won local championships in javelin, archery, staves, and daggers.”
Sitting next to Tjaden, Chism fidgeted. Hearing Captain Darieus praise the other recruits made Tjaden’s slightly more comfortable. But none of them brought along a personal witness. I should’ve tried harder to convince Elora to stay in Shey’s Orchard. But thoughts of the time shared on the journey made him realize the sentiment was a lie.
Captain Darieus continued. “And finally, one of our recruits risked his very life to defend a helpless victim under the attack of a bandersnatch.”
A few murmurs passed through the audience. “The young lady whose life was spared by his heroism is with us today. I ask her to recount the harrowing events. Elora…”
Elora, wearing a deep green dress fancy enough for a Sixteenery, glided to the stage, briefly distracting Tjaden from his worries. But when she started talking, any hope she wouldn’t use his name vanished. She was proud of him and exaggerated his fearlessness and prowess. Her speech wasn’t long, but with each word his face turned a deeper shade of red. By the time she reached the point in the story when his father arrived, Tjaden fully expected flames to erupt on the surface of his face.
As Elora finished and Captain Darieus returned to the stage, Tjaden felt sweat trickling inside his uniform and beading on his forehead.
“Thank you, Elora,” said Captain Darieus. Turning his attention to the audience he spoke in a regal tone. “Assembled in front of you today is the greatest young fighting talent anywhere in the world. Every one of them has shown skill, valor, and dedication. I present to you the future protectors of Maravilla!”
When the applause died, Captain Darieus signaled the banner that hung behind the recruits. A circle, bisected vertically by a sword, was highlighted in white against a dark blue background. “The Circle and the Sword. The Circle represents the continuous connection between every individual in the kingdom—from a wheat farmer, to a trader, to the king’s procurer, to the king himself. The Circle becomes complete and returns to that farmer by virtue of the Sword. The Sword connects the king to the citizenry by offering protection against foreign powers, disorder, and inhuman beasts.”
Leaving the podium, he paced the stage and continued. “And this holds true not only for farmers, but for craftsmen, for hunters, and for nobles. For the newest baby and the oldest woman in the kingdom. Everyone is connected in an unending circle to each other and to the king, and only through the strength of the Sword can the Circle exist. Remove the Sword and the Circle collapses. Likewise, if the Sword is separated from the confines of the Circle, it becomes a destructive rather than uniting force.
“Each of these young men will wield the Sword because they understand that their mothers and fathers, their brothers and sons, and everyone they care for is part of the Circle.”
Tjaden caught Elora’s eye and reflexively diverted his gaze. When he looked back she wore a pleased grin.
Ten feet tall, he thought.
Captain Darieus concluded, “If your young men can complete the rigorous training, they will pledge their lives to the support of the Circle and the
Sword. I commend them for the dedication necessary to reach this point and encourage them to persevere in the months to come. Thank you.”
The audience rose and cheered as Captain Darieus resumed his seat.
Lieutenant Markin spoke next. In contrast to Captain Darieus’ uplifting comments, he was practical. He told them that up to half of the recruits would not finish training. The next fourteen months would be the most grueling of their lives, and would include demanding daily schedules, tests of knowledge, and physical evaluations.
The silent crowd listened as he detailed the soldiers’ lives after they completed training. Daring rescue missions, drawn-out battles, injuries and hardship. The Elites often served as the spearhead that swayed the course of battles.
Lieutenant Markin spoke of protecting citizens from ferocious beasts such as barbantulas, bandersnatches, and targus. By the time he talked about hunting the foremost enemy of the Elites, the Jabberwocky, the only noises heard were nervous breathing and worried fidgeting.
He finished his address by saying, “Those that are strong and determined enough to endure the next fourteen months will swear an oath unique to the Elites—loyalty to Captain Darieus and to the Elites in defense of the king and the kingdom.”
Undaunted by Lieutenant Markin’s remarks, Tjaden reaffirmed, I will pass the training. I will be an Elite.
*****
One day wasn’t long enough to see a tenth of the city. Elora was still overwhelmed by its size, the variety available in the market, and the amazing sights. As she walked through Palassiren with her father and Mikel, she took in as much of the city as she could.
What stood out most was the large stone sculpture at the entrance to the training ground. It consisted of a perfect circle carved from dark blue granite, with an oversized white granite sword inside that supported the upper arch of the circle.
Despite the draw of new foods, specialized shops, and opulent mansions, she spent nearly an hour at the sculpture, and would have stayed longer if her father hadn’t rushed her away to view the palaces. Elora had little interest in war or weapons, but Captain Darieus’ speech earlier that day had impacted her deeply. It was a speech and a principle she’d never forget. Pride swelled within her as she thought of Tjaden wearing the Circle and the Sword for life once he finished training.
Before her trip she was the teenage daughter of a mirror maker in a town of little significance. Her life had been happy, but simple. She saw herself in the context of a tight knit community of people, but not much more. Now she knew she was a piece of something much grander. Not only was she an important part of Shey’s Orchard, but Shey’s Orchard was connected to every other town in the kingdom of Maravilla. Her life had never been inconsequential, but now she felt linked not only to her family and town, but to the world.
Elora passed the rest of the day with her father and Mikel viewing the sights of the city, sampling new foodstuffs, and perusing the many marketplaces.
The following morning, Lieutenant Aislin, commander of the squadron of Elites that would escort the three of them back to Shey’s Orchard, gave them two hours to spend in the city. They passed it slowly making their way through yet another market—which was more like a bazaar during the busy hours of the day. The three meandered toward the city gates taking the opportunity for one last amazed look at colorful fruits and vegetables; intricate jewelry and wood carvings; shoes, hats, and clothes of various fabrics; and countless other wares. When merchants and traders visited Shey’s Orchard, they always brought a variety of items for trade, but their wagons couldn’t hold a fraction of what Elora saw as she wandered the streets of Palassiren.
At the appointed time they met Lieutenant Aislin, who waited with three other Elites and their Fellows. The horses and supplies were already outfitted, and the party wasted no more time before leaving the city. The half squadron of Elites was on their way to an assignment in the Southwest and would be passing near Shey’s Orchard. Due to the small group, they traveled without cook or support team.
“Why isn’t Rodin’s father accompanying us?” she asked Lieutenant Aislin.
“He’ll journey with a separate group of soldiers bound for Peridia tomorrow. We aren’t going quite that far.”
Though Elora would rather stay in the city one more day and travel with the other group, it wasn’t worth disrupting the plans.
Without Tjaden and Ollie to keep her company, the first day of the trip home dragged. Having delayed for a couple hours in the city, the group was not near a town when dark approached, so they set up camp on a low lying plain near a grove of aspen and oak.
The four Elites and their Fellows quickly set up tents for themselves and their guests and lit cook fires. The smell of beef, potatoes, and turnips soon filled the air as they heated and seasoned a large pot of stew. Elora, her father, and Mikel moved closer to the fires while the food was still cooking. Eager to learn what she could about the life of an Elite, she questioned a nearby soldier.
“Where will your assignment take you?”
The dark-eyed soldier smiled nervously and answered, “I couldn’t say, Miss.”
Her father joined the conversation. “Is it normal to be in the dark regarding your destination?”
“No, Sir. This assignment is different than most.” The Elite spoke slowly and his words blended together, marking him from far in the East. He didn’t maintain eye contact with either Elora or her father and he kicked at a log as they spoke.
Maybe his heavy accent makes him nervous, thought Elora.
“How long will you be away?” she asked.
“A few weeks, I suppose,” he replied.
“Been a soldier long?” asked her father.
“Almost ten years,” answered the young man. He couldn’t be more than twenty-five years old.
“So you’ve almost earned your ten-year commission?” asked Elora.
The Elite nodded and said, “This will be my last mission with the Elites.”
He didn’t offer any more information and her father asked, “Where will you be assigned after that?”
“I’ll be the Sergeant at a post in Yaltua, where I’m from.” He motioned to the other Elites and added, “In fact, all of us are getting close to ten years.”
Before they could question him further, dinner was ready. As hungry as the soldiers were from traveling, they insisted the guests eat first and could not be convinced otherwise. Elora was shown to the front of the line and given a small bowl of fresh berries with sweet cream in addition to the aromatic stew. “Compliments of Lieutenant Aislin, and fit for a lady,” the Fellow remarked with a small bow.
Having worked up quite an appetite riding, the food in her bowls was gone before she realized it. After dinner she sat chatting with her father and Mikel, but her eyelids grew heavy and she couldn’t stay upright on the log she used as a stool. Excusing herself, she stumbled to her tent in the center of camp. More than mere exhaustion, a heavy sleepiness had settled over her and she fell asleep the moment her head touched the pack which served as a makeshift pillow.
*****
Aker sat by the coals of the fire talking with Mikel about mundane things, but the variety and ostentation of wares in the capital still filled his mind. As a craftsman, he considered himself creative, but people outside of major cities did not have an overabundance of silver to spend on frippery.
“How would it be spending your life crafting trinkets and knick-knacks?” he asked Mikel.
Mikel shook his head. “I don’t understand those snobbish folk. Some of the people I saw must spend what I earn in a month on one set of clothes.”
“Two months,” said Aker. “Shey’s Orchard suits me just fine. No one lines up to buy baubles, but we’ve always been well fed, shod, and sheltered.”
Grunting in agreement, Mikel said, “It’ll be nice to get back to work. It’s barely been a week and I already feel soft.” The conversation turned to the weather as it always did when Aker conversed with farmers.
> As they bid each other a good night, Aker thought, He’d be the best father-in-law Elora could hope for. I hope training and separation aren’t too much for her and Tjaden. He ducked into the tent where Elora slept, careful to not wake her.
Just when he was halfway into a dream, a commotion outside the tent brought him up with a start. The sound of tent poles cracking was the first thing he heard, but it was soon followed by men shouting and arming themselves. Having barely slept, he was disoriented and couldn’t make out the words through the clamor.
Extricating himself from his blankets, he stood, shaking sleep from his brain. Dread filled him as he finally understood the soldiers’ cries. “Jabberwocky! To arms!”
Despite the commotion, Elora still slept. Aker crept toward the tent’s entrance. As he opened the tent flap, pain engulfed his head and the world started spinning. He just had time to worry for Elora before darkness closed in.
*****
Tjaden awoke in agony. The previous day, following the Induction Ceremony, had been the most physically demanding of his life. Surprisingly, work in the orchards didn’t compare with the strenuous Elite training.
He roused Ollie, who groaned, “I can’t move.”
The recruits were required to be in the instruction hall at sunrise, and Tjaden wasn’t going to be the first to find out the punishment for arriving late. “Get up,” he urged. “Unless you don’t want to eat before training.”
With more grunts and whimpers, Ollie swung his legs over the side of his bed. “I swear someone came into our room and beat me like a carpet while I was sleeping. And he didn’t miss anything. Even my eyelids hurt.” He blinked slowly and winced to make his point.
Tjaden grinned and said, “You and me both. You hit like a girl compared to a group of first day recruits trying to impress the lieutenant.”
Jabberwocky Page 6
