by J. T. Wright
There were legendary Beasts that would have been impressed by the Sergeant’s yell. It shouldn’t be possible for a human to generate that much noise with their puny vocal cords. Creatures a mile away suddenly found the urgent need to run any direction that wasn’t in the direction from whence the noise originated.
No man present would respond to the Sergeant’s anger, but one fourteen-year-old girl did. At first, Tersa’s face twitched, and her jaw worked soundlessly. Then her own nostrils flared. Blood flooded to her cheeks and her eyes gleamed as her hands clenched.
Trent would have recognized the warning signs. Tersa always got that look right before she threw herself at an enemy she couldn’t handle. Trent could have warned the Sergeant about what was coming. Unfortunately, he was standing behind Tersa, and he thought she was going to reasonably explain herself and beg for forgiveness. Despite not seeing the danger signs, Trent’s expectations were a little foolish.
“I don’t owe you shit, old man!” Spittle flew from Tersa’s mouth as she screamed. “You’re a liar, an ash-chewing, piss-drinking, liar! Brute is a good Class, I like it! You’re probably mad because you know that it will make me strong! I'll probably reach Level 100 now! That’s right, I know. I know you’ve lied about Levels and Classes and… and stuff!”
Tersa’s eyes had narrowed to slits. They were almost pinched closed; she was so angry. Orion had told her and Trent, so there was no way Cullen was ducking out of telling her the truth. Level 50, Advanced Classes, these weren’t the nearly unreachable goals they had been told they were. And now, Tersa knew.
Maybe if her eyes had been opened as wide as her flared nostrils, she would have noticed when the Sergeant’s demeanor changed. Trent noticed. He saw the Sergeant’s anger go from white-hot to the truly dangerous smoldering ember that all Recruits should dread. Trent prepared to tackle Tersa. He had to shut her up.
Tersa drew a deep breath and prepared to continue. It wasn’t the Sergeant who interrupted her. Corporal Francis, who could read the Sergeant’s moods even better than Trent could, demonstrated the courage that had gotten his group through the Trial and made his approach.
“Sergeant, now might not be the time,” Frank said quietly. When Cullen’s glare was turned on him, Frank merely rubbed at the corner of his eye. His other hand gestured slightly, begging the Sergeant to notice the potential problem he was creating.
Cullen took the hint, and his gaze followed where Frank had indicated. He cursed himself for a fool. He saw the signs earlier, but maybe it was his anger that caused him to ignore them. Perhaps it was his own experience that made him forget. Not everyone came out of a Trial wishing they could go back in.
Every eye in the group was focused on the scene. Every hand gripped a weapon. Even the senior Guardsmen were on edge from the unexpected outburst. Cullen’s anger drifted away. He had seen it before. He’d seen how heads jerked anxiously at the sound of an insect’s chirp or the rustling of a bush. A month of constant combat, stress, running, fighting, and wondering if you would die tomorrow couldn’t be dismissed easily.
And Cullen, instead of guiding these men and women back to civilization, had provoked their fight or flight instincts by screaming at a stupid girl. A girl who had, probably, only made the reasonable mistake of choosing a poor Specialization because she wanted to survive.
Cullen’s eyes softened, and he was about to apologize to the Corporal. If he had gotten out the words, the Recruits and Guardsmen might have been shocked back to a semblance of normalcy. He never got the chance.
“You shut your face, Corporal!” Tersa spit at Frank’s boots.
Behind her, Trent's jaw dropped. She still called Frank, Corporal. She forgot every other courtesy, but still referred to her superior by rank. That was when Trent knew. Tersa had finally snapped!
Tersa missed seeing how both the Sergeant’s and the Corporal’s eyes lost their sympathy. Cullen’s went hard and cold again, while Frank’s went flat. Never let it be said that he hadn’t tried to help her. Sometimes, Recruits dug their own graves.
“You'll answer me, shit for jerkface! You will, with your stupid mouth, or I’ll, I'll…” Tersa’s fist spoke for her. It spoke but what it had to say wasn’t very smart. “Ahhhh, owwwww!”
There had been Recruits before this that struck at the Sergeant. He had been known to provoke them just to get that response. After hitting the Sergeant and recovering from the consequences, their training went smoother. Some people had to learn the hard way.
Those Recruits had struck Cullen in the face when he was out of uniform. Their response was similar to Tersa’s, lots of screaming and shaking of the hands, wondering how many bones they broke. For a low-leveled Recruit, punching Sergeant Cullen wasn’t much different than head-butting the wall of the Keep.
In Tersa’s case, there was no telling if she was better or worse off. Cullen had removed his helm, but he still wore a full suit of heavy armor. Tersa wasn’t even able to make the metal armor ring with the force of her blows. If Cullen hasn’t seen it happen, her strike might have gone unnoticed.
As he was facing her, he did notice. He shook his head as Tersa continued to flail pointlessly. His armor thunked, and Tersa shouted pained curses. Each punch damaged her own hands, but she kept at it, screaming incoherently.
Trent thought she might have gone on like that forever. Tersa wasn’t the type to surrender easily, even if her struggles were futile. Trent put his reward chest in Storage and was prepared to subdue his friend. He’d probably regret it. Tersa was bound to hit him more than a few times before she came to her senses. Some things had to be done, though. He and Tersa owed each other. They even shared a name. They were family.
Before Trent could act, Cullen settled matters. Tersa dropped like a rock. On the ground, spittle and drool bubbled at the corners of her lips as she breathed hoarsely. It made it appear like she was foaming at the mouth. Her eyes were open but rolled so far back that only the whites were visible. Trent might have been worried about that, but he had been caught by the edge of whatever the Sergeant had done.
Trent staggered. His stomach revolted, and he retched. Cullen hadn’t even moved. Had Trent been afraid the man would hit the enraged Brute? A slap on the face would have been preferable. Trent didn’t know what Skill the Sergeant had used, but judging from his own feelings of confusion and dizziness, Tersa would be out of it for a while. Trent had only caught the edge of the thing, and he just wanted to lay down, lay down and maybe die, himself.
“Runt, see to this idiot. Don’t let her choke on her own tongue.” Cullen brushed at his breastplate. “Everyone else, see to what needs to be seen to, and prepare to move out. Frank, you’re with me.”
No one moved at first. They’d gone from desperate battle, to fabulous reward, and back to battle within minutes. Some things took time to digest. As Cullen and Frank walked away, Trent got himself under control enough to wonder how you stopped a person from choking on their own tongue. Eventually, training kicked in, and the group began preparations to leave.
Chapter 2
Cullen led Frank to a spot a few hilltops away. Once he judged they were far enough away, he took out his pipe and lit it. Seeing the hopeful expression in the Corporal’s eyes, Cullen took out a spare pouch of tobacco and passed it to Frank. Frank snickered as he prepped his own pipe.
While the two men puffed companionably, Kirsten and Alistern came walking over. Seeing the two soldiers smoking in silence, the Lieutenant and the noblewoman shared a glance. So much for listening in and then insisting on joining the conversation. Cullen looked as if he expected them.
“Brat, Stern, can I help you?” Cullen rolled his eyes. Kids, always thinking they had to be included.
“That’s Lieutenant Stern, Sergeant.” Alistern tugged at his collar importantly. He knew his rank didn’t mean anything to Cullen. Cullen was a Sergeant because that was what he wanted to be, but the trick with the man was to get him to snort. Once he snorted, he’d talk. He’d always been t
hat way.
Cullen did snort, a sharp exhale from his nose that sent the smoke from his pipe swirling. Alistern prepared his next assault, but unfortunately, his teammate wasn’t as practiced at handling Cullen as he was. Kirstin spoke before Alistern was ready.
“Uncle, we just want to know…” Kirstin’s tone wasn’t exactly pleading, but it was close enough.
Alistern sighed. Never beg, nothing puts the man’s back up more than begging. Except maybe an out of control Recruit slamming away at his prized armor. Alistern thought he knew the Sergeant as well as most, but even he had been surprised when Cullen used a Skill meant to incapacitate a group of enemies to disable one fourteen-year-old girl. Cullen had controlled the Skill of course, limiting its effects. Even then, Alistern had seen Trent catch a touch of what he hadn’t deserved.
“I know what you want!” Cullen said briskly. “You want to know the truth about what the girl was babbling about. Well, too fucking bad! Maybe you should know. It might be time. But you’ll ask your fathers, and you’ll do in in the Al’drossford Keep. Uncle isn’t saying anything.”
“Did you really have to hit the girl with the Senseless Skill?” Alistern broke in, changing the topic. “Trent caught some of that too, you know. With your Level it’s hardly safe.” Cullen snorted, and Alistern bit back a grin as he waited for the reply.
“They’ll be fine. The boy needed to be kept quiet. What the Idiot knows, the Runt knows. Better a bit of Senseless than the King’s men…” Cullen clamped down on the end of his pipe. “Very clever, Stern. You’re as sneaky as your dogs-breath mother and twice as ugly. Just as ugly. That’s the end of this.”
“You'll break on the way home, old man,” Alistern said casually. “I’ve got the tools and the know-how. Maybe if you hadn’t been such an ass in the Trial, I might have shared the bottle I’ve been carrying. Now, if you want a drink…”
“It’s a good plan, Lieutenant, but it won’t work. I’m not going back with you; I need to fix the girl first. She, Trent, and I will be continuing this field training while the rest of you head back.”
Cullen’s declaration caught them all by surprise. Even Frank, who half expected it, couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. There was no reason to come so far away from the others just to discuss business as usual. Still, knowing a thing and hearing it were different.
“Frank, you and Stern take the others back. But not right away. Slyhill is nearby, it’s a quiet enough town to decompress in, and the local Trial is an easy one. Take a week off, and if you think the Recruits can handle it, run them through the Trial.”
Frank nodded slowly. It was counterintuitive to take warriors back into danger so soon after what the Recruits had experienced, but that was Guard policy. A week off and then slowly push them back into the fight. The World didn’t suddenly become a safe place just because you had gone through a tough time.
Alistern looked like he wanted to argue but held his tongue. He wanted to be a part of training Trent. He had since the Summons first appeared. He’d only seen a small part of what the boy was capable of, and that small part only made him more eager.
There was no point pushing Cullen on this, though. Alistern suspected the training that was coming up would be more about evening out the redheaded Guard Recruit, rather than honing the young Survivalist. Alistern could wait until Trent was back in Al’drossford. There he and his father, Taylor Craw, would put Trent through his paces.
Kirstin, lacking Alistern’s wisdom, was the one to speak up. “If Trent is going…”
“No,” Cullen said with finality.
“Uncle, he is my…” Kirstin had been separated from Trent in the Trial, just like she’d been separated from him by her own decisions before. She had missed a great deal of his growth, but she realized that he had come out of the Trial a completely different person. She didn’t want to miss anything else.
“No, Brat! Don’t push me on this. You and your team are done. You’ll be of no use and will only hold us back.”
“If I'm done, then Trent…” Kirstin had to try one more time.
“The Runt will be fine. I don’t know if it’s what he is or… I can’t explain it. You, your team, even my Guards, came out of that Trial looking three weeks dead. Tersa, the Idiot, is broken, though it’s a toss-up whether the Trial did that or she did it to herself. Even Frank here is ragged at the edges.”
Cullen waved a hand at Frank to let him know that no offense was meant. Frank didn’t need the apology, or what passed for an apology from someone like Cullen. He knew how bad it had been in the Trial, and he knew himself well enough to know he wasn’t at his best. Not yet, at least; the tobacco was helping.
“Only three people came out of that Trial relatively whole, Myself, Stern, and the Runt. That kid came out better then he went in, and I can’t explain it.” Cullen saw Kirstin building up steam again and quickly cut her off. “You lost a teammate, Kris. You need to deal with that. Let me deal with Trent.”
That was it. Kirstin had done her best not to think of Matt. She didn’t want to remember the optimistic firebug. Cullen’s words, simple as they were, slammed against the dam Kirstin had erected. The following flood was inevitable.
As the blonde noblewoman broke down, strong arms wrapped themselves around her. A single command had returned Cullen’s armor to his Storage, and he gathered Kirstin close without the protective metal to separate them. If any of the Recruits had seen him tenderly comforting the young woman, they wouldn’t believe their eyes. They wouldn’t believe that Cullen would even allow tears in his presence! Was this the same man who, without lifting a finger, had turned Tersa into a drooling, unconscious mess?
As for the two men present who witnessed the scene? They didn’t even blink. It came as no surprise to them. Most thought Duke Lewis valued Cullen for his Skill in battle, and his Ability to whip Guardsmen into shape. Corporal Francis knew better. Alistern, for all his complaints, was even more familiar with this side of the Sergeant. The Lieutenant had been in the same place as Kirstin more than once during his early years.
For all his faults, Cullen was good at two things. The Sergeant broke what he thought needed to be broken. Afterwards he put it back together again. He put the pieces together in such a way, that no one would ever break them again. He didn’t always use his fist to express himself.
**********
Quiet muttering filled the camp after the Sergeant and the Corporal left. Everyone noticed when Kirstin and Alistern slipped away to follow. Merrill and Keller frowned and grumbled as they watched the two go, but they didn’t speak up. After all, Alistern was an officer, and Kirstin was the Duke’s daughter. If they wanted to tempt the Sergeant’s mood, that was their business.
Trent tried to follow Cullen’s orders and looked after Tersa as best he could, but his best wasn’t very good. He knelt and poked at Tersa’s cheek. Her mouth lulled open ,and she made a snoring noise; it was creepy. Tersa was not sleeping naturally! Her eyes were open but rolled back, Trent thought she might really be choking.
However, her breath was erratic, but she was breathing. Trent stood up and pushed gently at Tersa’s shoulder with his foot. Maybe Lyra should come take a look? Trent was no Healer.
He stood indecisively for a few minutes. Trusting that Sergeant Cullen wouldn’t have used a Skill that would injure a Recruit, Trent settled back down on the ground. He sat near Tersa but carefully out of arms reach. He had the feeling that when Tersa did wake up, she wasn’t going to be happy. It would be best if he didn’t provide her with a handy target.
Keeping watch on Tersa out of the corner of his eye, Trent removed his reward chest from Storage. The metal box was cool to the touch. He greatly admired it, turning it this way and that, examining it from every angle. Anyone else might have tried to estimate what the chest was worth. After all, it did seem to be made from silver and gold. Trent, who had never learned the value of money, just thought that the box reflected the sunlight in an interesting fashion.
&n
bsp; If one were to talk about value, then it would be the contents of the box that made Trent’s fingers itch and inspired his greed. He set his precious reward on the ground, and nimble fingers soon flipped the lid open. He peered inside excitedly.
The frown that crossed his lips moments after seeing the inside of the box would have surprised anyone who observed it. If that person had peered into the box themselves, they would have seen a scroll, two Skill Stones, a Spell Stone, a ring, and two small crystals. Wasn’t this enough for the boy? What exactly was he expecting?
It wasn’t that Trent was unhappy, not exactly. His frown wasn’t because he was displeased with the contents of the box. There was more inside than he expected. Darak had told Trent what his reward would be before Trent had chosen this box. His reward was supposed to be one Skill Stone, One Spell Stone, three Free Attribute Points, and two Free Skill Points. What was the rest of this, and where had it come from?
Trent’s hand wavered as he tried to decide what he should examine first. The scroll called out to him. It was the most ordinary item, and that made it the most mysterious. He’d heard about Spell Scrolls. They were single-use items that adventuring groups carried in case of emergencies. The Spells they contained could be cast by anyone, so the Scrolls were in high demand by parties without Mages. Was that what this scroll was?
Trent picked up the document and unrolled it. If it was a Spell Scroll, then Trent really didn’t understand how it worked. He was tempted to read it out loud as a test. After considering the ramifications of casting a Spell with unknown effects, when he didn’t know how far away Sergeant Cullen was, he settled for reading it to himself. The Sergeant had a well-known dislike for people doing “unnecessary things.”
Trent read the scroll twice, trying to make sense of it.
