Valour and Victory (29 page)

“I love you,”
he said.

“I know,” Tala
smiled.

It was
backbreaking work and both Tala and Danal had to take frequent
rests. The Lind could clear away sand with their paws but they were
of no use when it came to picking up the rock. Grainne also took
her turn, despite Tala and Danal's protests. Soon a small mountain
made up of variously shaped rock shards and boulders lay piled to
one side.

“Found it,”
exclaimed Tala at last as she peered down into the dark maw. “I was
right, the drill
did
keep breaking.” She lay down and tried
to reach the edge of the package that lay revealed.

“I’ll do it,”
proclaimed Grainne as she scrambled into the hole, “I’m small,
see?”

“Hope its still
in one piece,” Danal said.

“It will be,”
Tala answered, watching Grainne as she squirmed around in the hole
trying to move enough rubble away to get at the object. “It was all
wrapped in a box.”

“I don’t see a
box.”

“The wood has
rotted away, look, you can see traces of it, thank goodness Grainne
is wearing gloves, if she wasn’t these splinters might give her a
serious injury.”

“Got it,”
announced Grainne, clearing away the last of the sand and debris.
“I’ll hand it up shall I?”

Tala leant over
and took the wrapped package whilst Danal heaved Grainne out of the
hole. Both turned to look at Tala who was fingering the strangely
wrapped package with awe. The wrappings were made of odd, clear,
crinkly bobbly stuff which none of them had seen before.

“Is it intact?”
asked Danal, fearful that all their endeavours might have been in
vain.

“As far as I
can feel it is,” cried out Tala in triumph as she pulled away the
wrappings and exposed the power-core to the air. “Why, there’s
hardly a scratch on it!”

“Will it work?”
asked Grainne.

“No reason to
suppose it shouldn’t,” she answered. “It doesn’t
look
damaged in any way. Quite remarkable after all these years."

“So what
happens now?” asked Grainne.

Danal looked at
Asya and Inalei and the latter nodded as he settled himself in a
comfortable position on the sand. Asya positioned herself beside
him, preparing to give him the support of her own telepathic
abilities as he made contact over the miles.

“I will
contact,” Inalei announced, “while Asya will shield and protect me
from prying minds.”

With that
pronouncement his eyes glazed over as he made the supreme
telepathic effort required to send the news of the finding of the
core over the miles to those waiting for the call. After what
seemed like a lifetime to the three watching humans, Inalei relaxed
and his eyes began to focus on his surroundings once again.

“It is done,”
he said and shut his eyes. He looked about ready to fall
asleep.

“Is he all
right?” asked Tala.

“He is tired,”
explained Danal. “He had to send a lot of information over a long
distance.”

“Inalei will be
fine after he has rested,” added Asya.

“So what now?”
Grainne asked.

“We wait,”
answered Danal, indicating that Tala and she should follow him
round the outcrop and into the shelter.

“Wait for
what?” she asked as they settled themselves under the awning.

“For the others
to arrive.”

“Others? What
others?”

“The power-core
is not a weapon in itself,” Tala explained, “the others will bring
the other bits we will need, I will need, to change it into
one.”

“Who are the
others?” Grainne asked, “more Lind?”

“No, not Lind,”
a tired and aching Danal answered, trying to make himself
comfortable on top of his sleep bag (it was too hot to actually get
into it). “Settle down and I’ll tell you a story.”

“A true story?”
asked the intrigued Grainne.

“Very much a
true story,” said Danal, “about a group of flying creatures that
call themselves the Lai.”

* * * * *

Hilla

“Warrant
Officer Taplin?” shouted out the breathless Militia Coronet,
looking round.

Wilf Taplin
looked up from where he was sitting and looked at the young man, no
more than a boy, standing in front of him.

“I am
Taplin.”

“Orders from
Major Bellahouston.”

Wilf Taplin
took a deep breath. The moment had come, he had been waiting for
this boy or one like him for the last two bells, ever since the
previous order had come down the line to ready the Officer Trainees
for battle and to advance into the forward trenches.

“The Major asks
that you reinforce the line to the left of the Sixteenth Foot.”

“Very well,” he
answered, standing up. “Go back and tell the Major that we are on
our way. Where is he?”

“In the line
with the Sixteenth. He’s taken command of the battalion. All their
senior officers are dead. They’ve taken a drubbing
Sergeant-Major.”

The warrant
officer nodded. He had sat watching what appeared to be a
never-ending column of stretchers and walking wounded pass him by
for some time.

“The Larg?” he
asked.

“They fell back
a half bell ago. Major wants the reinforcements on the ridge before
they attack again. I’ve to go back and bring forward the rest of
the Militia. The Major expects the next attack will be a bad one.
The kohorts have been attacking more on the wings than
yesterday.”

Wilf Taplin
nodded again. The previous day the Larg had concentrated on the
centre where the Vada and the majority of the Lindars were holding
and had been driven back with heavy losses. Their Kohortangan had
obviously decided that he would have more success on the right and
left wings that were held by infantry, supported by the rest of the
Lindars.

The Kohortangan
had sent his kohorts forward many times already this morning and
now he was about to order another thrust. It was on old Larg
tactic, to try and force a way through one section of the defence
line whilst keeping the other sections so busy that they could not
go to their compatriot’s assistance. The kohorts had failed to
punch through the centre, now it was the turn of the wings.

But which wing,
right or left, would bear the brunt of the attack? Wilf Taplin
rather thought it would be the right wing, where he and his Officer
Trainees were. The approach up the ridge was less steep here. Susyc
Julia was very well aware of this. She had positioned more reserve
Lindars here than anywhere else and also the Garda Heavy Horse, the
Light Horse having been sent to the eastern edge of the ridge.

He took out his
whistle and blew two short blasts, the signal to the Trainees that
it was time to form up.

Hilla heard the
blasts and glanced at Jen Durand. The two of them had joined the
Garda at the same time and had been friends from day one. Together
they had got through their first year of training and had entered
their second, final year some months before. In the normal course
of events they would have finished their training at the end of
this summer and have been gazetted with the rank of Coronet. They
would have been posted as junior officers to one of the Garda
battalions charged with the protection of the Argyll coastline.
They might even have been sent to one of the islands in the Great
Eastern Sea, those affiliated to Argyll. Never in a million years
had they suspected that they would be here, in the southern
continent, fighting the Larg.

Hilla took her
place in the column. Beside her stood Jen and in front of her
Dolvin Annson, another of the second year Trainees and a good
friend took his position.

Hilla felt
excited, scared and calm, all at once. She felt confident in her
abilities as a soldier. Had she not come out top, or near the top
of all her Academie classes but one?

Wilf Taplin was
talking to them, telling them not to panic, to remember the drills
and above all to keep in formation for therein lay the strength of
the Garda. They fought side by side and protected each other.

The ‘long
unbroken ranks of the Garda’ were famous the length and breadth of
more than just the northern continent. A well known saying amongst
them was, ‘the south may have its Regiments but the Garda is the
best’.

“Remember your
training,” repeated Wilf Taplin, “and you will come out of this
alive,” and so confident did he sound that Hilla relaxed.

Then they were
marching, marching forward up the lines, past the stretchers and
the walking wounded.

They reached
the immediate area behind the ridge line and passed through the
waiting Lindars. The Lind looked weary, but not so tired that they
could no longer fight. Some were lapping up water from the butts,
others were munching through the meat ration bars, unappetising and
tasteless as Hilla well knew but packed full of energising protein.
Some were lying down, injured and Hilla spied the maroon Vada
uniforms with the red cross of the Holad on their sleeves as the
medics tended their wounds. She smelt the spicy odour of blood and
smaha ointment. Hilla tried not to look at the pain-filled
eyes.

She looked away
then wished she hadn’t as she saw a group of black clad militia
soldiers dragging several somethings to one side. With a shock
realised that these were bodies, blue-clad bodies, the men and
women of the Garda who had died during the morning’s fighting.
Hilla shivered.

“Halt,” ordered
Wilf Taplin to the column of Juvenis and Senis Trainees. A
battalion of Militia marched up beside them. Some of the men and
women looked familiar to Hilla and then she recognised her brother
Zak.

He recognised
her that same moment and blew her a kiss.

Hilla stood
silent as did the rest of the Officer Trainees but Hilla heard the
whispering from the Militia ranks as her presence was noted and
commented upon.

Then Regimental
Sergeant-Major Wallaceson appeared, his uniform still as immaculate
as if he was going on parade. He sported a gash on one cheek that
had been sewn up and smeared with ointment. Traces of dried blood
showed through his morning’s beard-stubble.

“Officer
Trainees,” he began in the remembered parade-ground voice. Hilla
and the others came to attention. “You are about to go into action.
You will take position on the ridge between the Sixteenth and the
Fifth battalions. You will hold this position. Warrant Officer
Taplin, march them out.” He stood to attention, watching as Hilla
and the others marched by.

As they were
passing out of earshot, Hilla heard him begin his address to the
Dunetown Militia. They were going up on to the ridge as well.

* * * * *

The silence was
oppressive as the right wing waited for the next charge of the
Larg.

The centre
divisions were already under attack.

Hilla bit her
lip. She was in the front rank, which was made up of the Senis
Staticum Trainees. The first years were formed up in rank behind
them, ready to step forward if one of their seniors fell. The Lind
she knew were behind them, in fact, she glanced behind her to
confirm, they were pushing forward to take up defence stance
between the Juvenis Trainees.

“Shields,”
shouted Warrant Officer Taplin. Hilla lifted hers and thumped it
down hard on to the dirt in front of her toes. Beside her Jen did
the same and the shield-wall began to come together.

With
apprehensive determination the Garda Trainees, only a small part of
the shield-wall, waited for the command to brace. Hilla watched,
half-fascinated, half-mesmerised as the kohorts began to run up the
hill towards them. It seemed to Hilla that they were all heading
straight for
her
, then realised this was but the natural
reaction for a soldier facing an enemy for the first time. The
other trainees would be feeling the same. The ground was shaking
under her feet. The air felt oppressive. Hilla had to tell herself
to keep breathing.

“Brace, Brace,
Brace!” Warrant Officer Taplin’s voice rang out and Hilla tightened
the muscles in her shield arm. Arrows whirred overhead but there
were too many Larg for them to do more than fell a few. The Larg at
the front of the charge reached the shield-wall and leapt.

Hilla staggered
as a heavy body thumped against her shield. Although she had
thought about what it would be like, she hadn’t expected the Larg
to be this big and heavy.

The Lind are
like beautiful racehorses, the Larg are like ugly carthorses
,
Warrant Officer Taplin had told them.
When they leap at you,
you’d better be ready
.

As more Larg
reached the wall, the line of shields wavered and some fell
backwards as Officer Trainee after Officer Trainee buckled under
the weight. Hilla was conscious of the Juvenis Staticum Trainee
behind her pushing at her back in an effort to keep her
upright.

She could hear
the menacing growls.

I’m going to
get you
, they were saying,
I’m going to get you and eat you
all up
. It gave a whole new meaning to the old nursery rhyme of
Hilla’s childhood.

A huge hairy
head appeared over the shield and Hilla looked into what she
imagined the the gates of hell must look like.

The Larg had
his front paws pushing down on her shield. His mouth was open,
showing a set of very large and very sharp yellow teeth. The drool
from his mouth splattered over her face as he panted. It stank.

Hilla’s sword
arm moved upwards as she had been taught and she stabbed at the
creature’s neck, once, then again. The head disappeared with a howl
of pain. Hilla glanced at her sword, it was glistening with blood,
his blood. Hilla felt exultant, she, Hilla Talansdochter had made
her first kill but this feeling only lasted for a moment.