Heirs of the Enemy (22 page)

“Where are we now?” asked Colonel Shellard.

“We are on the eastern edge of the valley between portals eighteen and nineteen,” answered Colonel Tamora. “Remember your assigned portal number. If you forget it, do not, I repeat, do not go through a portal. The portals may be close together on this end, but they are extremely far apart on the other end. If you are in doubt, return here and find Colonel Dorfan. He will make sure that you find the correct portal. Anyone need me to repeat their portal number?”

No one responded, and Colonel Tamora continued as he handed each of the team members a small map, “Each team is to travel together, even though you are using different portals. If you look at the map I just handed to you, you will see your portal and a meeting point. That is all you need to know. Your teammate’s portal is not on your map, and it should not concern you. Memorize the maps because they are not going with you. Once you get through the portal, head directly to the meeting point. You will wait one hour for your teammate. If he does not show, proceed without him.”

“This map does not show how to get to Tagaret,” interrupted Colonel Edding.

“I will hand out route maps in a moment,” replied Colonel Tamora. “You will be able to take the route maps with you as they do not show the locations of the portals. I have to stress that the location of the portals are to remain secret. If you are in danger of capture, your life is forfeit. You are not to fall into the enemy’s hands. Is this clear?”

The men nodded, but Colonel Tamora waited for a verbal response from each man before proceeding. “Remember as you make the journey to Tagaret, you are supposed to have ten-thousand men behind you. Think in terms of where they will sleep, what they will eat, etc. This will be your only chance to see the territory your army will travel. Use the trip wisely. Any questions?”

“Do we come back the same way?” asked Colonel Hershey.

“That is permissible,” answered Colonel Tamora, “but it is also acceptable for all of us to meet in Tagaret and return through the closest portal. That would be one of the portals in Danver Shores. I guess it will depend upon whether you think you have seen enough from the one trip or if you wish to go back over the same terrain. I will leave that up to each team. Team, not team member. No team member moves alone unless the other team member failed to appear at the meeting point. Always keep in mind that we will be in hostile territory.”

Colonel Tamora paused to see if there were any more questions, and then continued, “Hand in your portal maps, and I will give you a route map. Once you have your route map, report to the tent that has Force Targa written on it. You will change out of your uniforms in that tent, and you will leave anything that can identify you as a non-Alcean. Take nothing with you. You will be inspected before given permission to proceed. You will also be given a pouch with some Alcean coins. It will not amount to a king’s ransom, but it will be enough to cover any expenses you might have. That’s all I have. See you on the other side.”

* * * *

Sergeant Shank knocked on the door and then entered the office of Colonel David Jaynes, Commander of the Red Swords. The colonel looked up and waved the sergeant into the room.

“Everything checks out on Becker,” stated the sergeant. “His parents were interviewed as well as his boyhood friends. None of them are terribly surprised that he has chosen to become a soldier.”

“What about prior training?”

“None. He had expressed an interest in joining the Army of the West during the Great War, but his father refused to give him leave. In all fairness to the father, Colonel, remember that the plague devastated Southland during the time of Azmet. Lloyd is the only son he has left now.”

“I would never judge the father harshly,” replied the colonel. “Civilians suffered just as much as the military during the Great War. The people of Southland probably suffered the most. I am sure the father did what he thought was right. Is Becker still performing well?”

“Exceptional is the more appropriate term,” answered the sergeant. “Lloyd has become a bit of a celebrity in the Targa army. Men from every unit have challenged him to spars, and he has beaten all comers. He remains undefeated.”

“That may change if he joins the Red Swords. What about his attitude?”

“Couldn’t be better. He is not a heavy drinker. He has not had a single infraction since joining the army. I even suggested some rather menial tasks to Sergeant Toucker, and he assigned them to Lloyd to see if it would affect his attitude. Becker never complained nor whimpered. I have looked hard, Colonel. I cannot find a reason not to bring him into the Red Swords.”

“Good,” smiled Colonel Jaynes. “If you are willing to sponsor the lad, you have my permission to extend the invitation to him to become a Red Sword.”

* * * *

The sky was just beginning to darken over Alcea as the three men set up camp a little east of Mya.

“That was a pretty short jaunt today,” commented Donil as he started the fire.

“Five leagues is a standard day’s trek,” replied Tamora.

“A Corps has no infantry,” commented Hershey with a touch of envy. “I bet they cover a lot more ground than the rest of us.”

“There is truth to that,” agreed Donil. “General Forshire doesn’t care to have the men idle. He thinks pushing them constantly is good for them.”

“We will have no more talk about army units or officers,” warned Tamora. “While such idle chatter might be all right when we are alone, we cannot afford to slip up when others are around. It is best to remain in practice at all times. If we need to talk about our units or officers, just use the name without elaborating.”

“Sorry,” apologized Donil. “You are correct. It won’t happen again.”

Tamora frowned as he nodded to acknowledge the apology. “Why are you with us, Donil?”

“Forshire is itching for a fight,” answered Donil as he began to cook the evening meal. “While we are not a large enough group to replace one of the teams, I think he hopes that we will be used as a reserve where needed.”

“No offense, Donil, but that isn’t going to happen, at least not with any of the teams under Fortella. Your group hardly has the type of reputation that a real leader would want to depend upon.”

Donil frowned deeply. “I know you meant no offense personally, Tamora, but I am offended by those who consider us inferior just because we have a checkered past. Given the chance to prove it, we would measure favorably against any other group.”

“As I said,” shrugged Tamora, “no offense was meant.”

The condescending tone of Tamora’s comment spoke louder than his words. Donil narrowed his gaze at the team leader and then glanced at the staffs that they were given for protection. He smiled inwardly and handed the spoon he was holding to Hershey. Whitman’s colonel glanced at Donil questioningly, but he said nothing.

“I am not sure how you are used to traveling, Tamora,” smiled Donil, “but my group usually enjoys a spar or two in the evening. Would you care to join me for some exercise? Maybe you can teach me a trick or two.”

Tamora recognized the challenge for what it was. He smiled inwardly and rose to his feet. “Soldiering is not exactly the same as a street brawl, Donil. I think you are about to learn that prison guards are not the type of teachers to depend upon.”

“I am always anxious to learn,” Donil smiled thinly as he picked up his staff and moved away from the fire.

Tamora grabbed his staff, and the two men circled warily. Suddenly, Tamora leaped forward, his staff aimed for Donil’s hands to disarm his opponent. Donil smoothly stepped aside and blocked the attack. Although his opening gambit failed, Tamora pressed onward, his staff becoming a blur as he alternated attacking from the left and then the right. Donil’s speed not only matched Tamora’s, but Donil also seemed to be able to anticipate the direction of Tamora’s attacks. Frustrated by his failure to strike Donil, Tamora backed off.

“You defend rather well for a street urchin,” quipped Tamora.

“I’m sorry,” Donil retorted with a grin. “Has the spar begun yet?”

Tamora suddenly leaped again, his staff extended before him and aimed for Donil’s stomach. Donil jumped to the side and batted Tamora’s staff downward. As Tamora’s staff struck the ground, Donil pivoted away from his adversary, bringing his staff up as he turned in a complete circle. Tamora quickly brought his staff up, but he was too late to block the blow. Donil’s staff struck Tamora across his shoulder blades. Tamora staggered forward a step and immediately pivoted, bringing his staff around at chest level in a vicious sweeping attack. Donil dropped into a squat and shoved the end of his staff into Tamora’s left shin. Tamora faltered as the pain shot up his leg. Donil swiftly raised his staff high, bringing it up between Tamora’s arms and striking the staff out of his opponent’s hands. Donil slid his hands along the length of his staff and reversed its motion, sending the other end of the staff into Tamora’s right leg. Tamora tumbled to the ground, and Donil swiftly rose to his feet and extended his staff to rest upon Tamora’s throat. Tamora’s eyes grew large as he raised both hands in front of him.

“You win,” Tamora said grudgingly. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

“Forshire taught me,” grinned Donil as he extended a helping hand to Tamora. “He taught all of us.”

Tamora grasped Donil’s hand and rose to his feet. He brushed himself off and then retrieved his staff from the ground. “All of you? Are you trying to tell me that some of the others in your group are also good fighters?”

“They all are,” answered Donil. “Forshire demands it, and not just with staffs. Every man is expected to be competent with each weapon, mounted or on foot. One of my tasks is to ensure the competency of my men, and you can be assured that I am not lax in my pursuit of perfection.”

“I mean no disrespect,” Tamora said sincerely, “but I find it hard to believe that a group of criminals can be turned into an effective unit.”

“Your attitude appears to be shared by many in our homeland,” smiled Donil. “Forshire is not one of them, but if it is any consolation, we didn’t believe it ourselves at first, either. In the beginning, we hated the daily drills and practices, but now we look forward to them as a way to improve our skills.”

“Do you mean that you practice every day?” asked Hershey.

“Every day,” nodded Donil.

“I can’t imagine our group submitting to such a routine,” commented Tamora. “There would be a mutiny.”

“Perhaps,” agreed Donil, “but the men under Forshire’s command have no choice. You know what the penalty would be for not meeting Forshire’s expectations.”

“Back to prison.” Tamora nodded as Hershey handed each of the men a bowl of stew. “I can honestly say that I am impressed, Donil. I will try hard not to think of your group the way that others do.”

“Hello the camp,” called a feminine voice.

The three colonels turned towards the road and saw two people approaching. A woman led her horse towards the campsite, and a man followed, holding the reins with one hand while tapping a long staff on the ground with the other. The man had colorful patches over his eyes. Tamora tensed, his hand slowly moving towards his staff. Donil looked at Tamora and gently shook his head.

“They are just travelers,” Donil said softly. “Invite them into the camp. Perhaps we can learn something from them.”

Tamora hesitated, but eventually he nodded. “Be careful of your words,” he warned softly. Rising to his feet, he called out to the travelers, “Welcome travelers. Come and share our meal as humble as it is.”

Sheri was the first to reach the camp. She smiled at the three men and then tied her horse to a tree. When Wylan arrived, she took his reins and tied them to the tree. She then led him to a log to sit on.

“I am Sheri,” she said cheerily to the three men. “My brother’s name is Wylan. Thank you for sharing this camp with us.”

“I am Donil,” offered one of the men. “The others are Tamora and Hershey. Is your brother blind?”

“He is.” Sheri nodded. “He was injured in the Great War.”

“So he used to be a warrior?” asked Donil. “That must have been exciting.”

“I am blind,” scowled Wylan, “but not mute. I can talk for myself.”

“Be nice, Wylan,” retorted Sheri. “These men mean no slight to you. They have opened up their camp to us.”

Wylan sighed loudly. “I apologize. I guess I dwell too much on my infirmity.”

“No harm,” Donil said in a friendly manner. “Would you like a bowl of stew?”

“I would,” Wylan replied. “It smells good.”

Donil rose and took a bowl of stew to Wylan. He held it next to Wylan’s hand and let the blind man take it for himself. “Where are you heading?”

“Danver Shores,” answered Sheri. “We have a cousin there who is a fisherman. Wylan is hoping that he might find some work, mending nets or something else he can do without sight. Where are you heading?”

“To Tagaret,” answered Tamora before the others could speak. “We have not been down this road before. Is it safe to travel?”

“It is,” replied Sheri. “Bandits are a thing of the past. No one will bother you between here and Tagaret.”

“No bandits?” asked Donil. “Is that because the army patrols it often?”

”Often?” laughed Sheri. “The army doesn’t patrol it at all. The Targa army doesn’t even have enough men to man the walls of Tagaret. They certainly don’t send them out patrolling.”

Tamora grew intrigued with the conversation. “I have never been to Tagaret. Are the walls so massive that they need so many men to man them?”

“The walls are average,” shrugged Sheri. “It is just that the army never fully recovered from the Great War.”

“They are lucky to have six-thousand men in the Targa army now,” interjected Wylan. “It is not what it used to be.”

“Six-thousand?” echoed Tamora. “Surely, you are mistaken?”

“No,” said Sheri. “Wylan’s estimate is accurate. He still has friends in the army and they all complain that the king hasn’t bothered to increase the number of soldiers.”

“It is because the kingdom is broke,” scowled Wylan. “The Great War devastated all of the provinces. Cordonia doesn’t have any more than six-thousand men, either. Even the once mighty Lanoir cannot claim any more than twenty-thousand men.” Wylan sighed loudly. “The days of the great armies are gone forever.”