Beneath a Cloudless sky
The soldier’s worst enemy, the sun, beat down upon the whole of the Fiftieth Legion, without a cloud in the sky for the soldiers to claim shelter under. But by looking at the soldiers red uniforms and their metal helmets, one could barely tell what misery those men were going through. They stood in formation, perfectly, with their captain in the front, a short, red-haired man who gripped his spear fiercely, trying to keep himself from taking the spear and shoving it through the calverymen, and then up their horses’ arses.
Captain Kalvin Richter kept his mind busy trying to imagine how a plain like this could be defended, or attacked. The Northern Plains had been the site of many historic battles for control of the outlying land around Dachin; for all Kalvin knew, he could be standing on the very land Clovis ran over as he routed Kalvin’s ancestors, the Ulathians. Kalvin could almost smile at the thought; a thousand years later, and the very men who had fought the Dachinians the hardest now served under them, and willingly. Dachin paid good money for soldiers, and any soldier could earn a pension, and citizenship if he served twenty years.
But there still was the distinction between the common foot soldiers and the calverymen. The calverymen who stood in front of the Fiftieth were men of aristocratic means; too rich to sully themselves with marching around like foot soldiers. Their armor, burnished steel braided with golden twine at the shoulders, made the distinction clear between them and the rough, though royal red, clothes of the infantry behind them.
Most of the time, Kalvin hated them. He remembered the times that he had stood stoically while a horseman spit on him, then expected Kalvin to mind his horse. He also remembered feeding those horses something that had their owners pinching their delicate noses. Not that Kalvin would hurt a horse, mind you, just show the nobles that what all came out of their noble steeds wasn’t exactly…noble.
There were other reasons, as well, reasons he would bring up with their guest if he ever got here. For now, he contented himself with having done his duty. All the soldiers assembled on the plain, ready and outfitted for review. True, half of the soldiers would puke out last night’s wine and food into their helmets, and the other looked red-eyed enough to please an elf, but they were there.
Kalvin saw five horsemen coming from the south, towards the assembled crowd. "Attention!" one of the calvary cried in a high-pitched voice, intending it for the infantry. As if I couldn’t bloody well see, or give orders to my own men, Kalvin thought. Nonetheless, he threw up his arm and pulled it down. The men pulled their spears to full attention, pounding the staffs to their chests. At least he could keep up appearances.
It took the horsemen a good ten minutes to get to within a hundred feet of the soldiers. When they came into view, Kalvin saw the black uniforms symbolic of the High Rank. Four of the men wore red ribbons on their shoulders, indicative of their lack of command. Clearly secretaries and messengers, but not like the courtiers of the court with their intrigue and sneaking. Those messengers knew one duty; be the mouth and ears for their leaders, and they reported their commanders’ words faithfully.
Even without seeing, Kalvin knew that the other, taller rider wore; four golden bars on his shoulder, the symbol of one of the Four. Second-in-command only to the other three generals and the First himself.
The men with the red ribbons stopped their horses in an almost parallel line, facing the mounted men, while the general proceeded forward. One of the calvary spurred his horse a few feet forward to meet the general. He bowed.
"General, as you have commanded, I have come," Captain Lord Gammerez spoke, trying to hide his Tai’Pea drawl under a phony Dachinian accent. He put his gauntlet to breast, and waited in mid-salute. The general removed his helm, and the sharp green eyes of General Stonetower examined the captain sharply, then scanned an eye over his men.
"Has the Captain lost some of his horsemen?" Stonetower asked coldly. Richter stood up straighter, as if Stonetower was examining him.
"I beg my General’s pardon?" Gammerez asked.
"I did not know that you did something that needed my pardon," Stonetower asked, irritation growing in his voice. "You have a hundred horsemen under you, and I see only fifteen. Am I wrong?" The young lord’s horse screamed, and the young lord relaxed his legs, easing his spurs out of the horse. The horse quieted.
"My General, my men were…exhausted from last night’s preparations for your arrival, as well as strenuous exercise all day. I can assure you I did not mean to disobey orders."
Kalvin heard one of his men cough silently, yet with a mocking phrase hidden in that cough. He whipped his head towards the noise. "Silence," he hissed, "or I’ll have you marching till your guts drip through your bowels." Whoever it was stopped, and Kalvin turned around just in time to see the general look at him. Looking at his men, rather.
"And why are all of the infantry accounted for, Captain Gammerez?" the general asked.
"General, I did not want to trust the preparations with…," he trailed off suddenly. Almost. He had almost disobeyed the martial regulations against making reference to a soldier’s class. The general’s eyes flashed, and if the captain didn’t work his way out of it, he could find himself working winter’s duty in the Elven Teeth, up near the tallest peaks.
"My general, I knew that this was an important and rare trip, so I wanted to personally supervise the welcoming. My men are, as we are speaking, preparing for your arrival. We have prepared an excellent feast for you, general." The last words hung between the two, until Stonetower nodded.
"I accept your apology, captain, just do not let it happen again. The other generals might not have been so patient with you. When I say meet me with all of your men, I mean all of them, am I understood?" The captain nodded, and the general pointed to his messengers.
"Captain, escort my men to your fort. They have had a hard journey, and I will have a message to send to the four in Dachin. What I send will depend on your "preparations" and what my messengers tell me."
The captain pounded his breastplate again. "Yes, my general," he said.
"Your men are dismissed. I will review the infantry personally." The captain hesitated, but then turned to his men and ordered them to march just in front of the messengers, who spurred their horses a second later.
When the horses were about halfway towards the fort, a slight structure in the distance, the general moved his horse towards the infantrymen, Kalvin held his chest high, and stared directly into the eyes of the hardened general. Stonetower trotted his horse up and down the front line, gazing at each man in turn. Kalvin didn't turn his head, but the trotting of the horses followed by the inhaling of breath told him where the general was.
The general moved his horse in front of Kalvin, and nodded to him. "Your men are well-prepared, captain. Will you order your troops to march ahead of us?" Kalvin nodded, and turned. The men, without need of sign, pulled up their spears from the ground and held them at attention.
"Right turn!" Kalvin shouted. The men pivoted on their right feet, not a sign of emotion on their faces. "March!" Kalvin roared. The groundpounders soon had the earth shaking with a thousand left feet hitting the ground simultaneously, followed by a thousand right feet, and so on. Kalvin and the general stood watching the troops, waiting until the last row was a good ten feet in front of them before they started after the two.
After a minute, Stonetower looked down at Kalvin oddly. "Can you really pass your guts through your bowls?" he asked. Kalvin cursed; hopefully, he had not heard the other as well.
"You can if you march too hard," Kalvin said. "I had a man under me who was a bit insolent and I had him marching nearly half the width of the plain." Kalvin spoke plainly and truthfully; Kalvin had dogged Dilian all the way. "When we got to camp, he went to the latrine and did not come back for nearly a day after that. He squat so much the men thought he had passed his guts. Truthfully, I think it was the water he had, but he learned his lesson, and so did the other men," and learned it well, which was why the lean, taut towhead carried the red banner of the legion, a symbol of honor."
Stonetower suddenly laughed, and hard. "I think I will use that story on my rough recruits, Kalvin. You always knew the way to get a man’s attention, and discipline." Kalvin smiled back; the two now spoke as old comrades.
"How’s Dachin?" Kalvin asked. Stonetower sighed; it was not of the city that Kalvin nor Stonetower talked about, and the story would not be good.
"Dachin is in tumult," Stonetower said. "The First is sliding into his dotage. No, he’s falling, falling faster than even the healers can stop. We try to keep as much of it out of the hearing of the troops, but even they know that the First won’t be around forever, and some of the colonels are starting to buzz around the Fort, looking for any way to worm themselves into our favor." Kalvin noticed Stonetower’s gauntlets tighten.
"How long?" Kalvin said.
"Six months, maybe less, maybe more." Stonetower’s horse quickened its pace, shortening the gap that had appeared between the soldiers and the two commanders; Kalvin didn’t have to strain much to follow. "But, we could all be wrong. Emil Loper was known as the Winter Rabbit for more than one reason; he’s weathered a thousand storms that we all thought he would never get out of."
This time, however , Kalvin knew it was different. He could feel the change, just standing around Stonetower. This time, the Creator or the Guardian or whoever would be clearing the gameboard, preparing for a new round. The First, however much use he had served in the past, was an old piece, and one easily discarded. But there was more. "If that was all that was bothering you, Stonetower, you wouldn’t look like somebody told you a dragon was looking for your blood." Stonetower looked at him sharply; he didn’t really like to fly.
"Do you take such an insolent attitude towards one of the Four Generals?" he asked slowly. Kalvin snickered.
"With you, I do, sir," Kalvin said with a mocking, but friendly, tone. Stonetower shook his head.
"Sometimes I think I should send you to the barracks," Stonetower muttered without any real feeling. "Anyway, in case you are wondering, although the Ambassadors deny it, the King is taking ill as well."
The Ambassadors. Men who served the King of Dachin as more than diplomats, and who could not be legally attacked by anyone in Dachin. More than one rumor said they used magic to achieve the king’s, and sometimes their own ends. Few deaths of nobility did not land at least one accusation at their threshing-door, even though their oaths demanded their everlasting pacifism. If the Ambassadors could not keep back the rumors, then the king truly was on old Grim’s list.
Kalvin shook his head. "I thought we did not involve ourselves in domestic politics, Stonetower. What does it matter to us that the king is ill?"
"It will matter we have to enter Dachin to restore order, and we don’t have a First to lead us. More than one faction vies for the crown, and the nobles are flocking to Dachin like scorned daughters to their father’s deathbed. What’s more, the Surdin army is appearing on the border. Maybe the elves can come down off the mountains next and start eating dragon-meat; it appears that we don’t have enough things to worry about as is."
"Surdins? Why are they moving? They haven’t moved in a hundred years?" Kalvin’s normally subdued mind flooded with questions. His grandfather had spoken about the Surdins in the same tone he used to describe manure-handlers, yet he bought the wine and Surdinian flax they only produced. Others had not been so nice; "Northern Bastards" was a common name for the sly folk behind the Sorrow Mountains.
"Hold on, captain," Stonetower grinned. "We are nearly to the entrance of your fort. I will inform you later; there is much to be discussed in secret." Kalvin’s thoughts subdued, if reluctantly. One Stonetower told you to shut up, you shut up.
The wooden gates of Rivercross were held open by two of Gammerez’s lackeys, while considerably more of the horseman than had appeared before now lined the last two hundred paces or so of the way into Rivercross. Lord Gammerez looked quickly over the whole of the infantry, and then his face reddened further when he saw where the captain and general were. Kalvin suspected the Lord would want to shut the gates on Kalvin’s troops, but now he couldn’t shut the doors until everybody was past the gates. Essentially, Gammerez’ horsemen were acting as an honor guard for infantrymen. Kalvin’s face broke into a grin when the men turned towards their "honor guard" and saluted them as they walked by.
Gammerez broke rank and led his horse towards Kalvin and General Stonetower. "My general," Gammerez said, "should you not be at the head of the army, leading it?" Kalvin admitted Gammerez could sound sincere.
"No, thank you, captain," Stonetower responded. "I am perfectly fine here." Gammerez sniffed, and then rode his horse back in line. Stonetower chuckled, then leaned over to Kalvin.
"I do not think that he always means you insult," he said.
"Whoever said that I thought he did?" Kalvin asked, brooding. Stonetower shook his head.
"Kalvin, you have too much noble blood in you sometimes," Kalvin tensed up his back, feeling the sting of an old cat-o-nine-tails, long since discarded but never forgotten. Stonetower looked at him oddly, then said simply, "Not all noblemen are like that. Or your father."
"I would prefer not to talk about my father, sir," Kalvin said stiffly, and Stonetower nodded. Kalvin wanted something else, anything else, to think about, which was why he noticed the horsemen looking at the distance, behind them. Kalvin looked behind him, and saw a horsemen, more familiar, running up the plains like elves were on his tail.
"Company halt!" Kalvin yelled, bringing the company to halt, and nearly forcing them over their feet. Stonetower nearly fell out of his saddle, and his horse bumped a young redcoat in the back, pushing him into the ground, invoking some laughs from the troops who quickly silenced at the greater laughs from the calvery.
"What do you think that you are doing?" Stonetower yelled, and then started when Kalvin pointed it out to him. "Who’s that?" Stonetower mused, "I don’t think they could have caught up with me so fast."
"One of our messengers on the outer edges of the camp," Kalvin said, eyes still focused on the man. What in the name of Darksbane is wrong with him? Kalvin wondered. He sat straight in the saddle, yet the he looked. . .empty. Almost like one of the numerous wheat shafts the farmers tended around this area.
His head turned to Stonetower. "What do you mean, sir, they ‘caught up with you’." Stonetower looked embarassed.
"Actually," Stonetower began, "I was prepared to come up along with your new recruits. Unfortunately, they decided to spend too many nights in the brothel, so I left. They couldn’t have caught up with me, I’m sure of that." Kalvin sighed silently. No wonder they called him "Rabbit legs". Springy as a rabbit, and one of the first to jump into danger even while calling his subordinates down for the same actions.
"Why is he riding like that?" Gammerez said, appearing beside the two of them. Kalvin had not noticed him. If the both of them wondered at his condition; Kalvin quickly took off towards the man, now only fifty paces from them, and Gammerez’ horse outshot him.
"Hold up there!" Gammerez ordered. "What news do you bring?" The man’s eyes shot open, fluttering.
"Sir. . .that you, sir?" he said weakly. Kalvin held the man’s horse. "Thought. . .got me. . .the other two. . .only one left," his breath seemed tensed, and Kalvin now saw a gaping wound just underneath his ribs.
"Who?" Kalvin asked. "Who?" The man turned around, and pointed towards the ridgeline. Kalvin saw nothing.
"Surdins," he said, and fell out of the saddle, toppling like a bag of wheat onto the ground. The Guardian protect his soul, Kalvin thought. Almost instantly a noise like thunder came from where the man had pointed. The ridge grew spikes that grew out of the ground, followed by men on horseback. The yells now became roars of bloodlust. Kalvin and Gammerez looked at each other stunned, and a wild thought blossomed into Kalvin’s mind.
Why would Surdins come out of the south? Yet they came, and they were coming for blood.