The Storm's Own Son (Book 1) (16 page)

Talaos
sheathed his blades and went with them.

~

A motley group of tents was clustered closer to the front lines than any others in the allied camp. In the center of that group was an open area, and in the open area were gathered a hundred or so men.

On a
wooden folding chair sat their commanding officer, Captain Adriko, a tall, lean man with an easy manner, thinning dark hair and world-weary brown eyes. He wore a fine chain shirt with silver scrollwork fittings over a gray silken tunic, dented greaves that looked scavenged from some old battlefield, and a weathered black cloak.

Talaos and four other new men stood at the south end of the open area.
Most of the rest of their company were clustered toward the north. In the very middle was a circle, fifteen feet in diameter, drawn by digging a little trench several inches into the ground.

The men before him were from
half a dozen countries and appeared to have equipped themselves with whatever armor and weapons they could buy, scavenge, steal or plunder along the way to this war. Much like himself, thought Talaos.

"All right, you lot," said Adriko, gesturing to the recruits, "Who's first?"

Three of them held back. Talaos made a leisurely move to step forward, but was preempted by a short, thin  young man who darted ahead like an impetuous rabbit.

"Firio! That's the spir
it!" commended the captain.

Firio stepped into the ring. He had lank chin-length brown hair
and a narrow face with furtive, alert brown eyes He was equipped with a short sword and a leather tunic with crude stitching over a large gash stained with what might have been old blood. Talaos suspected the previous owner of that tunic had not parted with it willingly, or alive.

"Now everyone," announced Adriko, "remember this is won by a weapon tap, or by forcing the other one out of the ring. Unfortunately for some of you,
it will tend to favor speed over strength. The goal is to see what the new men can do, not to put them out of action, so don't try anything stupid."

Adriko paused, watching for any argument.

"Right. Who wants to have a go?"

An older soldier, with streaks of gray at
the temples of his light brown hair, plain sturdy features, hazel eyes, and well-maintained scale armor, an oval shield and a hand axe, stepped forward with a smile.

"I'll teach you a few pointers, lad," said the man to Firio in a friendly, almost fatherly way, and an accent from one o
f the countries of the far west. "Name's Larogwan."

Soldiers wrapped the edges of each man's weapon with rags. The two squared off in the ring. Larogwan advanced forward, at ease and ready. Faster than he could react, and almost faster than could be seen, Firio darted to the left and tapped him with the flat of his short sword.

"Well I'll be
..." said Larogwan with a chuckle as he left the ring.

"Next!"
laughed Adriko, as he poured himself some wine from a clay jug.

"I'll go
," said a gigantic shaven-headed man, with a heavy face and jaw, dark stubble, thick dark brows and dark green eyes. Close to seven feet tall and massively wide, he wore a heavy leather tunic with iron plates, and rested a huge war mattock over his shoulder.

"Vulkas, remember what I said about speed over strength?" said Adriko
. "And, squashing a new recruit won't count as a tap."

Many in the crowd, Vulkas included, laughed
harsh laughs. Firio was not among them.

The giant stepped into the ring,
holding his war mattock low and sideways in front of him. Firio waited. When Vulkas failed to move, he began to weave forward, twisting, and watching for his chance to strike. He seemed to find it, and darted.  Vulkas dropped his mattock sideways on the ground in front of him. Firio, focused on his target, went tripping over it. The big man scooped him up with casual ease, and hurled him bodily out of the ring.

Vulkas exited the ring
to ferocious laughter and cheers. He gave Firio, just standing up, a friendly clap on the back that almost sent the smaller man toppling back to the ground.

"
Look lively, recruits!" shouted Adriko. "Who's next?"

Talaos stepped up.

The crowd grew quiet, and some of the younger men shied back.

"Eh?" said the Captain with a smirk
." Come on lads. I'm sure our new friend Talaos here is as harmless as he looks."

With that, a few more men shrunk to the back of the crowd.

"Damn it all!" snarled a short, black haired, black-eyed, thick-browed man in segmented armor, carrying a sword and a round shield. "Haven't a one of you fucks got any guts?"

The man stepped forward with a scowl at Talaos.

"Kyrax, and his winning smile, it is!" announced Adriko.

Talaos faced off against the other. Kyrax muttered something under his breath and came
forward with his shield ready. He moved with focused precision, watching Talaos like a scorpion ready to strike. Talaos feinted, and the man ignored the bait. Shield up and sword poised, Kyrax circled. Without warning, fast as the wind, Talaos made a whirling leap, turned in mid air, and landed behind Kyrax even as he brought his sword to the back of the other's neck.

"What in all the hells?" snarled Kyrax.
Then he turned to Talaos with a grim nod, extended a hand and said, "Nice one, you bastard."

As Kyrax left the ring, the crowd watched with mutters and growing tension.

"This is looking familiar," said Vulkas with a shrug as he strode forward. He stopped, rested his war mattock outside the ring and stepped in with only his bare, mallet-like fists.

"Doubt that would work twice, so let's see how this goes..." he said.

Talaos placed his swords aside.

"Ha!" boomed Vulkas, laughing
. "Now that takes a pair!"

Some in the crowd laughed,
but others grew silent.

The giant strode forward confidently, with the loose ease of a practiced wrestler. Talaos walked toward him with his own sort of ease, but it was more like that of a wolf. The two faced off. Vulkas twisted, fast for a man so big, and
made to trip his opponent. Talaos avoided the trap with a quick leap, turned, and stood his ground.

"Right
, then," growled Vulkas. He launched forward with the weight of a moving mountain, and clapped his iron hands invincibly on the shoulders of his smaller foe. He moved to force Talaos out of the ring by main strength, but the latter wrenched suddenly backward and sideways out of Vulkas's hands, as if made of air.  Talaos made a two-handed grip, suddenly grabbed his opponent's tree-like arms above the wrist, and hurled Vulkas like a whirlwind out of the ring. The giant went rolling as bystanders scattered aside, and while still in motion, flipped to his feet. He stood there, staring at Talaos with narrowed eyes while the soldiers around gaped.

Then he laughed, a great bellowing laugh that seemed to shake the ground around him.

"Who's next?" smiled the Captain lightly, as if they were all chatting over lunch. "I'd hate to have to order someone..."

Larogwan
stepped in, and was soon sent back out by a quick, darting strike from Talaos. Then another man followed, and another. Then others still. When twenty men had been tapped, tripped, kicked, or hurled out of the ring, Adriko at last raised his hand to stop.

"All right
Talaos," he said in resigned and yet somehow lofty tones, while finishing his wine, "I suppose you can stay."

10
. Possibilities

The trenches were complete, the siege engines were assembled and rolling into position. Men practiced fighting moves. Others worked, crafting, repairing and cleaning weapons.  Up on the walls of Avrosa, ballistae and small catapults fired every now and then, perhaps testing range or the besieger's alertness.  The besiegers themselves held all in reserve, for the right time.

Banners on tall posts fluttered amidst
the sea of colorful tents, and in the center of that sea was one larger than all the others, in colors of black, purple and gold. On either side of a large entrance at the front stood more banners. There was one from each member faction in the allied army. Three cities, a dozen smaller towns, and two rural warlords were represented there.

At the door of the tent
were two guards and a variety of men coming and going on the endless business of running an army. Standing there as well were Talaos and Captain Adriko. The latter was speaking in his easy manner.

"Now remember Talaos, they're curious about the recruit who beat twenty men, not conducting an inquiry, so you don't have anything to prove. 
That being said...  Every one of those men in there, with the exception of Tradermaster Giorvan, are experienced commanders, and none of them are fools. They'll be looking for a use for you."

"
Good, because I'm looking for a use from them."

Adriko made a quiet, cynical chuckle. "
Nerves of steel, Talaos, and a mouth of sparks. I like you, but try not to get them mad, or volunteer us for anything."

Talaos smiled benignly in reply.

They entered the tent.

The interior was floored with
assorted carpets, some of them looking to have seen long years of use. There were chairs, shelves, and chests around the edges, but the center was dominated by a set of small tables pushed together to make one larger one.

Around that table were gathered
the seven key commanders in the allied army. Adriko had briefed him on who was who. The men were involved in discussion and did not immediately react when Talaos and his captain entered. A stout older man without armor, Giorvan, from what Adriko had described, was giving them a detailed update on supplies and munitions.

After a
little while, one of them, a trim gray-haired man in a richly gilded breastplate and a dark red cloak, gestured.  Talaos had been told he was the senior allied general, Sanctari, of the city of Teroia, and a man of thirty-five years experience in the field.

T
he others at the table quieted, and turned to their visitors. Talaos and Adriko saluted, right arms horizontal across their chests, and the commanders returned the gesture.

Adriko
reported to the commanders in a formal, practiced voice, "Captain Adriko, Second Company of Irregulars, at your service, and with me is Talaos, recent recruit."

Sanctari
replied, "Welcome. Good to see you this morning, Captain.  So, this is the man who beat twenty in the initiation matches?"

"I am," answered Talaos.

"Amazing duels, each of them, from what I've heard."

Talaos smiled.

The General looked him over, taking in gear, weapons, and scars with a practiced eye. "You wear no armor."

"I favor speed."

"I'd suspect you've done more fighting by yourself, or with only a few at your side, and perhaps against unfavorable odds, than you have in ranks on the battlefield."

"
I have."

The General paused, and seemed to turn
things over in his mind.

Adriko was beginning to look uncomfortable.

Another commander turned to Talaos. He was a big rawboned man with wild black hair graying at the temples, a jaw like a craggy, battered stone cliff, and a colorful array of mismatched gilt armor pieces under a forest green cloak. According to Adriko, he was Kurvan, a warlord from the hill country.

"They said you walked down from the hills by yourself
. Weapons drawn. That true?" asked Kurvan.

"Yes."

"You're from the Republic, by your accent. You cross the mountains?"

"I
did," replied Talaos.

"My lads in the foothills are telling me there's Ferox around up
in the peaks. A lot more than there should be. You see any of that?"

In silent answer, Talaos pulled back the sleeve on his right
forearm and showed the bites.

Kurvan made a low growling approximation of a laugh
. "You're my kind of madman, lad. Glad you're with us." Then, another thought seemed to cross the warlord's mind. "You probably went by Ipesca, eh? Enemy town. Did you meet Rocani?

"He had the place well defended."

"I believe it. It'll be a shame if we have to kill him. He's my wife's cousin."

At this point, another
commander interjected, leaning forward to speak to Sanctari. From Adriko's description, he was Nissas, General of the city of Aledri. A tall man of medium build, he had silvered armor over a blue tunic, intelligent eyes under gray hair, and an old scar across his chin.

"General, this brings to mind the situation with the supplies from my city."

Sanctari arched an eyebrow.

"Un
less the fleet gets through," continued Nissas, "we'll have to do something about Drosta's irregulars."

Sanctari
raised two fingers to his chin, then looked thoughtfully at Talaos.

Adriko groaned under his breath, so softly only Talaos could hear.

"Gentlemen, if you'll excuse us. Dismissed," said the senior General.

~

Adriko stood addressing his assembled men in the clear space amidst their tents. They were watchful, and intent. Talaos stood at his right side.

"Now," he went on, "
there's a lot we won't know until we get up there, but in short, two days northwest, supply caravans from Aledri are getting interrupted, in a permanent sort of way, by a former bandit named Drosta. He's supposed to be canny as a fox, and has maybe fifty or sixty men with him.

"We know in general where he's operating, and it's country that favors a motley lot like us o
ver heavily equipped regulars. That said, we'll be backed up by a company of spearmen from Aledri, as well as five squadrons of cavalry to make sure if Drosta runs, he doesn't get far. But, we're the ones who will take whatever initial punch he's got.

"We're going to fan out in squads of ten. Command is giving us a few scouts to help. Together, we'll ferret Drosta out, and the nose of the ferret will be Talaos here, who's going to be upfront and on point to surprise them with his own particular, kindly gifts."

"
Bastard!" interrupted Kyrax. "You're not sending him on that without some help!"

Adriko smiled with a knowing look, as if coming to the punch line of a joke
. "Why yes Kyrax, I accept your gracious offer. But who said I was sending Talaos by himself? In fact, the commanders have appointed him a decurion, in case anyone volunteers to help."

It was the first Talaos had heard
of that. A decurion led a unit of anywhere from ten to about twenty men, and that meant people who'd been here before him might soon be taking his orders. He thought it good to see the allied army wasn't standing on seniority.

Meanwhile, men looked around or at their feet. A towering figure shoved past them.

"I'm in!" boomed Vulkas.

"And me," squeaked Firio, to general surprise.

There was another pause, but then Larogwan ambled forward, eying Talaos and Firio.

"I suppose it'd be fitting to go on some fool mission with both of the lads who fooled me in the practice ring," he added lightly.

Three more men volunteered. The first was Epos, a heavily armed and armored veteran mercenary known in the company for near-constantly wearing his close-fitting, black-crested helm with nose and cheek guards. The next was Halmir, a big ruddy man in a chain shirt, with a sword and long axe, an iron cap and a round shield at his back. He was of Schaldic stock, but from that part of old Dirion that had been conquered by his people. The third was Imvan, a gaunt, brown-haired young hillman with experience as a hunter and tracker, dressed in greens and brown with a bow at his back and a long knife at his belt.

Adriko beamed like a proud father, "That ought to do it. Don't worry men,
Avrosa's not going anywhere while we're away. Any questions?"

There were none, nor much enthusiasm outside the group with Talaos, but war was war, and the men set to work cleaning their weapons and packing their gear for the march ahead.

~

Talaos watched the campfire flicker, bright in the starlit night. Around them were the fires of the rest of their little army, the irregulars, the cavalry, and the Aledri spearmen.  Nearly three hundred all told, and loosely united under Adriko's
overall command. However, Talaos thought, they each had different jobs to do.

His was the smallest of the jobs, given there were only eight of them. However, it still required trust and cooperation to succeed. If they succeeded, the siege was more likely to, and if the siege succeeded, he'd get inside
Avrosa for a visit to the House of the Prophet there... on his terms.

There was more though. He could almost feel the possibilities in the air. War brought instability and destruction, but with that it cleared the way for new things. Not necessarily good things, but certainly new. Talaos thought it likely the Prophet was somehow behind this war, and no doubt planned to use the instability to his advantage. But, it was one thing to set something in motion, and another to control it.

He observed his seven companions as they completed their tasks and joined him at the fire, one by one. There was little talk. Though they knew each other, more or less, by now, none of them had served together before the current war. They had nothing in common beyond a certain recklessness and trust in his dangerousness in a fight.

They'd need more. But what?

With a certain black humor, he considered what they were all there to do.

He turned to Larogwan, who sat close by to his left, finishing some soup.

"Larogwan, tell me about the first man you killed."

The old warrior looked at him in surprise, then cracked a smile.
"Well that's a cheery question to ask a fellow, all out of nowhere!"

"It's all right if there weren't any. I'm not one to judge a virgin."

At that Larogwan chuckled, but Vulkas, next over on the left, boomed a sudden laugh that caused the others to turn their way in varying degrees of surprise.

"All right, all right..." began Larogwan, "I was a bright eyed young lad, fresh off the farm, in the army of Cor Anwin. It was nigh on twenty-five years ago now. Things over in the seven realms were a little less quiet than they are these days, and we were standing in lines facing the army of Mabroch."

The men around the fire were listening closely now. Larogwan continued.

"There was this lad facing me, marching my way, and I threw my spear at him."

Nods passed around the circle, except for Firio, who seemed to be waiting for more.

Larogwan shrugged
, "That was that. Sorry lad. No mighty duel of heroes."

Firio looked a bit downcast. Larogwan gave him a sympathetic smile.

"What about you, lad? I'll wager this is your first war."

Firio nodded, then spoke in his thin voice, eyes staring at the fire
. "In Megasi, there was this man who came by the alley where I used to sleep, and he wanted to do things to me. So I pulled the dagger from his belt and put it into his throat."

The circle went quiet. At last Larogwan spoke again.

"By the hells, lad... how old were you?"

"Ten."

Talaos, whose own young life on the streets looked almost charmed by comparison, gave Firio a steely smile. "You're with us now, Firio."

Firio returned a fierce, beaming smile of his own.

"Vulkas, what about you?" asked Talaos.

"When I was a boxer and wrestler, I was in a match with this fellow, and I clapped him on the head a little too hard. It was about then I thought I'd be better cut out for soldiering."

Harsh laughs circled the fire. Talaos gestured around, inviting someone to speak next.

Epos, still wearing
his helm, spoke in his flat, deep bass voice. "We were on the walls at Lazla, when they made their final assault with scaling ladders. I ran a man through as he came over the top, then I kicked the ladder down."

"Dammit man!" said Larogwan, eyeing the helm
. "Do you sleep in that thing?"

"
Only in the field."

Halmir raised a carved drinking horn
and took a sip. He had a golden-red beard, shaved on the sides, but long around his chin and braided with copper rings that gleamed in the firelight. His face took on a grim, regretful look as he spoke.