Wayward Soldiers (30 page)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Joshua P. Simon is a Christian, husband, father, CPA, fantasy author, and heavy metal junkie. He currently resides in North Texas, and hopes that one day he can leave the life of a CPA behind and devote that time to writing more of the ideas bouncing around his ADD-addled brain.
EXCERPT OF RISE AND FALL - BOOK ONE OF THE BLOOD AND TEARS TRILOGY (COMPLETE SERIES NOW AVAILABLE)
“…This is the one that will break their back for sure, Commander. We’ll smash them to pieces. They will be talking about tomorrow for years to come…”
Aye, for years to come they’ll talk about tomorrow as one of the worst bloodbaths this continent has ever seen.
Jonrell stared across the open landscape below. The cliff gave him a full view of an expansive plain, littered with rows upon rows of tents from the opposing army’s encampment, more than double the size of their own forces.
Two years after taking this job and I’ve regretted every minute of it. Shorting us on pay, ignoring advice, putting us in dangerous positions…why am I here again?
“...I won’t be able to sleep tonight in anticipation…”
Anticipation of what? Stuffing your face while others fix your mess? I haven’t seen you do anything besides that since I’ve known you.
“I think the men are a little too eager,” said Jonrell.
Melchizan continued. “…Oh, yes. Naturally. They feel the significance of tomorrow as well…”
Jonrell cleared his throat and cut in, “I think we should withdraw to more favorable ground.”
“…yes, we will slaughter them, we will…” The would-be conqueror almost choked on his last words as he turned in the saddle of his mount. The short man’s demeanor suddenly turned from one of excitement to confusion, and then anger. “What do you mean withdraw? We have them right where we want them. This is what we’ve been waiting for…”
The setting sun bled across the land, reflecting dark purples and reds off the white canvases of the enemy’s camp. Reminiscent of a bruise.
A bleak reminder of what awaits us tomorrow. No Melchizan, I haven’t waited for that.
“Commander! I’m speaking to you,” said Melchizan, his great jowls swaying.
“I hear you. And unlike you, I actually listen to the person I’m talking to.”
Melchizan’s face reddened. “It’s bad enough you and the rest of your tattered outfit of mercenaries fail to address me as your lord, but I will not be spoken to like some common soldier. Is that understood?”
“No. You are not our lord and definitely not a soldier, just an employer. The Hell Patrol will not bend a knee to you. If you want someone to kiss your rear, you’ll have to look to the rest of that motley army of yours.”
“Have you forgotten that motley army has conquered over a dozen cities and hundreds of miles of land? An army you command?”
Jonrell snorted a laugh. “Cities? Most of that land was filled with nothing more than small tribes and villages. Your army is not ready for this,” said Jonrell, pointing toward the encampment. “The men are going to face more than two to one odds against a better armed and better trained force.”
“If they fail, then you have failed as a commander.”
“No. I’ve told you we needed to spend money on better weapons, rather than your lavish indulgences. We need to push the men to work on actual skill sets rather than allow them to function as a badly organized mob. But you’re too greedy to see that, so you keep pushing for more and undermining what I’m trying to do. Then you decide to engage an opposing army on a wide open plain without cavalry to match theirs.”
Melchizan ignored Jonrell’s remarks, his voice low and even. “I’ve waited too long for a kingdom to call my own. We will attack tomorrow and we will win. Otherwise, you and your outfit won’t see the rest of your contract.”
Jonrell stared at Melchizan, ready to reply, when the sound of approaching hooves and a shout from behind caught his attention. He held his employer’s glare for a moment longer, then turned toward the approaching rider. He refused to continue the conversation and instead kicked his mount forward.
“I’m glad you’ve seen it my way, Commander,” Melchizan called out.
Jonrell heard the amusement in his employer’s voice as if the man had won some victory over him.
Idiot. There will be no victory tomorrow. I hope you slice your own throat when you try to draw your sword in terror.
The advancing rider bobbed in his saddle as he pulled beside Jonrell. The two mercenaries descended the rocky trail in silence, interrupted by Jonrell’s heavy sigh and the grinding of teeth.
“Keep it up and you’re liable to crack another tooth.”
Jonrell turned to the man in faded black robes. “Are you my mother now?”
“That’s right, take it out on me,” the mage muttered.
“That man is an absolute imbecile and he’s going to get us all killed,” said Jonrell.
“Probably,” said Krytien. “But let me remind you who signed the contract…”
“I know who signed the contract. If I wanted to take this abuse, I would have stayed with… what does Raker call him? Lord Roundness?” said Jonrell coming to a halt. He drew a breath and calmed himself. “Now what do you want?”
“Well, remember that item I bought off a trader last time we were in Slum Isle? You know, to keep track of that particular situation of interest to you?” whispered Krytien.
Jonrell straightened in his saddle. “Yes?”
“Well, it worked. I mean, the king,” he paused, “passed away.” Krytien ran his fingers over his head, wiping the sweat from his brow and pushed back his thin white hair.
“How?”
“I don’t know. The device wasn’t designed to tell us how, just when.”
“You sound surprised.” said Jonrell.
“Well, there was always some question on whether it would work or not. The workings of such magical tools are not my expertise, you know.”
“Don’t give me that. That’s not what you told me before. If I recall, you assured me that the moment something happened, the device would brighten and you‘d be made aware of it. That was years ago.” Jonrell scowled, growing agitated. “Now, you’re saying this was all in question?”
Krytien cleared his throat. “The uncertainty came when trying to confirm the tool’s effectiveness at the time of purchase. Only the one who created the item could figure that out. However, I do know the device worked as intended.”
“Would you swear on it?”
“I’d swear on my honor as a mage.”
Jonrell snorted. “Honor? Isn’t that the same pledge you make when Raker accuses you of cheating at dice?”
“Well, that’s different,” he smirked. “My fingers are crossed then.” The mage raised his hands and wiggled his fingers as the smile vanished. “It’s true. I’m sorry for your loss.”
A breeze from the north blew Jonrell’s long auburn hair into his face. “You have nothing to be sorry for, I’m not.” He turned and kicked his horse into a quick trot and the mage did the same. “When we get to camp, gather the crew together and bring them back to my tent. Hell Patrol only.”
“I brought the device with me in case you wanted to see it for yourself.” Krytien reached into his robes and pulled out a round stone similar in appearance to a pearl, only larger.
Jonrell reached out and grabbed the device without examining it, sticking it in his pocket.
“I’ll ride ahead then.” The short mage gave his horse a kick and galloped toward camp, bobbing in his saddle.
* * *
When Jonrell entered camp, the sun had dropped below the horizon. A clear sky allowed the moon and stars to cast an eerie light on their sorry excuse for a camp, illuminating the soldiers’ questionable activities. Jonrell didn’t like what he saw. Men joked, drank, and did just about everything but ready themselves for the next day.
The fools have grown just as overconfident as Melchizan.
Jonrell shook his head in disgust as he harkened back to the days when he and Cassus had first left home and joined the Hell Patrol. They were led then by a man named Ronav, a hard but fair man who had taught Jonrell what it meant to truly lead an army. Jonrell was forced into command after Ronav died and kept the group’s survivors together while rebuilding what Ronav had started.
But now? He would bash my teeth in if he saw us working for Melchizan. What was I thinking these past couple of years? I should have cut our losses long ago.
As he made his way through camp, Jonrell stopped to speak with a few of the men at several fires. The soldiers had the sense to appear as if they cared about his advice regarding the impending battle, but Jonrell saw the truth of things behind their eyes.
Melchizan called this my army? It doesn’t matter what I say or do because he will come in behind me and undermine my authority. This has never been my army.
A man with short black hair waited outside the command tent. “I take it you tried to talk some sense into them again?” asked Cassus.
Jonrell gave the man a frustrated look but ignored the comment. “Is everyone here?”
“Almost. What’s going on?”
Jonrell clasped Cassus on the shoulder. “You’ll have to wait like everyone else. Who are we missing?”
“Just Hag. She said not to wait for her. She…uh…well, let’s just say she and one of the Byzernians are a little busy right now.” Cassus let out a shudder after finishing the comment.
“You’re joking. I didn’t think there was anyone here old enough or desperate enough?”
“Apparently, she was quite convincing.”
The remainder of Jonrell’s scowl vanished, replaced by a grin. “Well, maybe it will improve her disposition.”
“Ha. It couldn’t hurt it,” said Cassus as he opened the tent flap. Jonrell entered first and Cassus followed after, securing the flap behind him.
The command tent was packed. Never meant to comfortably hold more than twenty men, fifty soldiers now filled the space. Jonrell made his way through the press, heading toward the back of the noisy tent, interrupting conversations along the way. He did no more to greet those he passed than offer a nod or a quick clasp of the arm. He wasted no time with small talk. Cassus remained by the tent entrance, ensuring no one uninvited snuck in.
At the back of the tent, Krytien waited next to a stool. “I figured you might want to use this.”
Jonrell took a step up and looked down at Krytien. “Are we good?”
“Yeah. People outside the tent can still hear our voices but no longer clear enough to understand what’s being said.”
Jonrell raised his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, that’s enough.” He paused until everyone settled. “We’re moving out tonight. We’ll leave after everyone is passed out or asleep. There’s a more pressing job ahead for us.”
Conversations erupted amidst a press of questions. Jonrell raised his hands again for silence, “I know you have questions so let’s make this quick and I’ll answer what I can for now. The rest will have to wait.”
A man leaning against one of the tent poles was the first to speak. He held a small dagger in one hand, cleaning his fingernails. The man didn’t look up when he spoke but his words were clear and to the point. “I know things are looking pretty bleak out there but it’s not like us to renege on a contract, Boss. Doesn’t help our rep, you know,” said Kroke.
“Aye and some contract it is. We’ve been moving around this continent for over two years now with Melchizan and haven’t been paid half what he owes us. The way I look at it, he broke our contract a long time ago. I take the blame for letting things get this bad. But trust me, thanks to his spending habits the man is penniless. He’s counting on tomorrow’s battle to bring in the cash he sorely needs. That’s not a situation I want to be a part of. As far as our rep goes, I think staying and getting crushed along with him would do more harm than leaving now, don’t you?” He paused and then glared at everyone around the tent.
“It’s about time you came around, Boss,” said Kroke, cold eyes flashing. “We were starting to wonder about you. Its one thing to die if you’re leading us, but another thing entirely to fight under Melchizan. I’d rather cut my own throat and be done with it.”
Jonrell looked around the room. “Does he speak for everyone?” Heads nodded and a few grunted in agreement. “Good. What else?”
Usually too shy to speak up in front of others, the young woman surprised Jonrell. “I know that army out there isn’t much, Commander, but there are a few we could use that’d be willing to come with us. Some might even be Hell Patrol material after a couple of real battles.” The deep color of her tight red ponytail contrasted against pale skin and blue eyes.
“Is there something specific you’re asking?” said Jonrell.
Yanasi shifted the black long bow from her right hand to her left, whispering. “Can we take those who are interested in coming with us, Sir?”
“If you’re looking for someone to warm your bed at night, I’d be more than happy to oblige. We don’t need to bring another squad aboard for that, do we?” said the man next to her as he flashed a dirty grin.
Yanasi turned and jabbed him in the groin with her bow. The ragged man fell to the ground, hands between his legs, groaning in pain. “Raker, if you open your mouth one more time, I’ll cut off what little you got, do you hear me!”
The commander had witnessed the scene far too many times. The comments toward Yanasi used to bother him since he took her in as a young girl, treating her like the sister he left behind. But over the years, she had proven more than once that when pushed, she could take care of herself. So he learned to let those comments go, knowing no ill was meant by them.
Just the way Raker is anyway, always knowing how to get under people’s skin.
Her voice quieted again as she turned back to Jonrell. “It’s not like that, Sir. Rygar is one of them and he’s one of the best scouts we’ve ever had. I just think it’d be a waste to leave anyone behind if they could help us on the next job is all.”
Ah, now I see. I’ll have to talk to her in private then, and perhaps Rygar for that matter.
Jonrell answered her question by addressing everyone. “If you can actually find someone out there that is worth taking along then so be it. I’ll trust your judgment. But don’t bring it up until we are about to leave. I don’t want our plans to reach Melchizan. If anyone looks like they’ll be trouble, end it quick. I don’t want someone flapping off the second we turn our backs.” He paused. “Anything else? We need to wrap this up before the camp starts to get suspicious.”