Authors: Tony Shillitoe
‘
S
pread your weight more. Feet shoulder-width apart. Stand on the balls of your feet.’
Meg obeyed Blade’s instructions, trying to imitate the Leader’s swordsmanship, but her arms ached, her shoulders were rubbed raw by the chain mail’s cumbersome weight, the helmet shifted clumsily and the weapon was heavy. She dropped the sword and sank to her haunches. ‘I can’t do this,’ she protested.
Blade lowered his sword and squatted before her. ‘You’re doing better than you think you are,’ he encouraged. ‘Take a rest. It’s nearly sunset. I have to check the tents are set up. I’ve sent a couple of men to ask about your Treasure. If he’s anywhere around here, we’ll find him.’ As he stood, he added, ‘Wait until it’s dark before you take off your helmet. I’ll get you a coat with a hood.’ He went to walk away, but turned back to say, ‘You can sleep in my tent tonight. I’ve put your sack in there already. I sleep alone, if I choose. One of the privileges of being Group Leader.’ He winked and grinned, and left.
Meg watched him move among his men, talking, giving instructions. They were putting up the tents, sharpening weapons, cleaning armour, lighting fires. She
felt guilty for not helping, but Blade said it was smarter for her to keep apart. The excuse of training the new lad was enough to allow Blade to separate her from questions and prying eyes. ‘I’ll tell them you’ve got guard duty at the end of the sword session,’ he told her. He wasn’t exactly handsome, she decided. His eyes were an ordinary brown, and his nose had been broken along the bridge. His lips were thin. He wasn’t ugly either. He was just ordinary, like most of the men in Summerbrook. His offer for her to sleep in his tent rekindled Wombat’s warning about his real intentions. It might be prudent to grab a blanket and bunk outside on the ground, like she had with Wombat.
Galloping hooves caught her attention, and a pair of riderless horses thundered into the camp, and raced along the makeshift path between the camping soldiers. Meg stood up, wondering what had happened to their riders, and she was unsettled by the sharp tingling sensation teasing her spine. And the horses vanished. She stared at the vacant space in wonder, as soldiers scratched their heads and searched the ground and air. ‘Oh Jarudha, look!’ someone behind her yelled.
A wall of thick smoke-like mist rolled towards the camp. Men on the outer perimeter backed away, drawing their swords and raising their spears. Out of the mist marched a phalanx of soldiers in green armour, shields forming an impenetrable wall, with lances bristling. Some of the Queen’s soldiers immediately retreated in panic. ‘Hold your ground!’ a Leader bellowed. He stepped into the path of the enemy, sword ready, but the enemy swallowed him effortlessly into their ranks. More soldiers panicked and ran. Archers loosed a volley at the green phalanx, but when their arrows dissolved harmlessly against the shields and armour another wave of soldiers retreated.
Meg backed away. She wasn’t ready to face a ruthless enemy. ‘Everyone in line! Now!’ A hand gripped her arm, and Blade was beside her, his face set in a grim expression. ‘Have courage, my friend,’ he said, and pushed a sword hilt into her hand. ‘Trust this,’ he whispered. Then he yelled at his Group. ‘Two lines! Spears at the ready!’ Retreating men were forced to go around, but some stopped to form a third line, their courage bolstered by their colleagues’ defiance. The archers took up position behind the lines and fired another volley into the enemy, again to no effect. ‘Steady!’ Blade ordered. ‘Hold your ground, no matter what happens! Hold your ground!’
The green-armoured enemy closed the gap swiftly, marching inexorably forward in the dying embers of daylight. Meg’s fear rose with every enemy step. She wanted to run. She didn’t want to die in the front rank of the Queen’s army. The dream wasn’t like this at all. Blade stood beside her, his sword oddly lowered, while she clasped hers tightly, ready to thrust and parry in the manner Blade had briefly taught her. The enemy were five paces away, four, two…
Like so many men around her, Meg lashed out with her sword as the enemy reached them—and struck air. The enemy rank vanished. The mist out of which they’d marched dissolved. The land beyond was melting into shadow beneath the red and apricot sunset. The Queen’s soldiers who’d vanished in the enemy ranks, along with the Group leader who’d stood against the advancing tide, were walking to their tents. Meg stared in disbelief, her sword hand shaking, her heart pumping wildly. ‘Relax,’ she heard Blade say to his Group. ‘Go back to your duties.’
‘What was
that?
’ she asked.
‘The Seers,’ said Blade. ‘They’re using magic to break our hope.’
‘But how did you know?’
‘The disappearing horses had to be magic,’ he explained, ‘and that tipped me off. They used the same trick with conjured Rebel knights two years ago near Broadlake. I was there. That time I ran, like most of us did. They followed our panic with a cavalry charge and their real knights slaughtered six hundred scared and confused soldiers. I was lucky to escape.’
Meg stared into the darkening landscape. ‘Will they charge now?’
‘No. They won’t attack now. Their ruse failed. We didn’t run like they’d hoped, and they know we’re waiting for them.’ Blade clapped a hand on Meg’s shoulder, and said, ‘We need to eat.’
Meg stayed where she was, watching the soldiers go back to organising their campsite. Torches were lit to let men see what they were doing, and the camp became a sea of fires. The clouds separated, and a cold moon shone. Stars became pinpoints of light, mirroring the campfires. ‘It will be cold tonight,’ a soldier said as he walked past. He stopped. ‘You probably don’t need your helmet on.’ She didn’t know how to answer, frightened that her voice would betray her sex. The soldier’s eyes glittered from nearby torchlight. ‘My name’s Nails,’ he said. ‘Nails Carpenter.’
‘Red,’ she replied, trying to disguise her voice with hoarse tones.
‘Yeah, the minstrel’s lad. He’s got a fine voice, your old man,’ said Nails. ‘You should stick to singing, too. You don’t need to get caught up in this soldiering game. There’s plenty of us here already.’ He shook his head, and added, ‘There’s food at the fire. You know you’re welcome to it, Red. Don’t be so shy. No one here bites. Well, almost no one.’ He grinned and headed for his companions who were lining up around a pot.
Meg held back. Everyone waiting at the fire had removed his helmet. Blade walked towards her, carrying a spear and a shield, so she waited for him. ‘Leave your helmet on,’ he said. ‘I’ve told the others that you’re taking watch.’
‘What’s that?’ she asked.
‘Guard duty, basically. You go to the perimeter of the camp and watch for anything unusual. What did Nails want?’
‘He was just being friendly,’ she explained.
‘Take this spear and shield,’ he said, handing the implements to her. ‘The shield hooks onto your left arm. Like this,’ he explained, and helped her to secure the shield straps.
‘It’s heavy,’ she complained, testing it.
‘It has to be to stop arrows and spears. Just hold the spear, point up, like this, and keep watch. I’ll bring you something to eat and drink.’
‘Where do I go?’
‘Straight out there,’ he said, pointing.
‘But what about looking for Treasure? When can I do that?’
‘I told you I’ve already got people making inquiries. You can’t go looking for him, even dressed like this. Now, go to the watch point, and watch.’
Meg trudged past the rows of fires, weighed down by the shield and the clumsy spear, oblivious to the occasional disinterested stare. Her muscles ached from the day’s marching and the melees. She would much rather just strip off the weapons and helmet and chain corslet and eat something warm, and curl up to sleep by the fire. The unfolding adventure, since she’d set out from Summerbrook, had deteriorated daily, and now she was alone, sore, lost, her identity obscured and seemingly no closer to her objective. Emma’s advice had been to trust her dreams, but following her dreams had
turned into a sordid, fearful trial. She’d been conscripted into the Queen’s army almost as effectively as Button Tailor and his friends.
She thought about Button. It was possible that he was also somewhere in the vast camp. Was he a willing soldier now? Was he thinking of her? He had been so kind to her. If Treasure hadn’t come to Summerbrook, would she have given herself to Button as readily as she had to Treasure?
The night was very cold at the edge of the camp. Meg’s breath caught the moonlight and became a white cloud. She rubbed her hands together and stamped her feet to drive out the chill, until she decided she really didn’t care if the Rebels came, so long as she could find somewhere warm to sleep. She gazed back into the long rows of campfires and wondered at the wisdom of lighting fires for the enemy to estimate the army’s number and position. Dark figures moved across the flickering lights. Somewhere in there, Treasure was probably eating, or talking, or shining his armour. No. More likely he was out somewhere in the moonlit night, sneaking around the enemy’s camp, gathering information.
She tried to take a pose she imagined suited a soldier on watch when she noticed a man approaching, but the heavy shield pulled on her left shoulder so she let it droop. ‘I brought you some broth and bread,’ Blade announced. ‘I’ll take your shield and spear while you eat.’ Meg gratefully exchanged the items for the bowl, and began eating, savouring the lukewarm flavour. She squatted and used the bread to soak up the liquid and scoop up the chunkier portions. ‘You
are
hungry,’ Blade observed. ‘I should have brought more.’
‘What’s to drink?’ she asked greedily.
He unhitched a flask from his belt that flashed silver in the moonlight, and handed it to her. ‘It’s mead. It’s still a little warm.’
Mead was one drink she liked. She’d never taken to Fletcher Archer’s brewed ales, or even the wines sometimes brought to the inn by Saltsack Carter, but mulled honey wine she liked. Her father had liked it too, calling it Jarudha’s nectar. She opened the flask and sipped at the sweet liquid.
‘You can have it all,’ Blade offered. ‘It will help you to sleep tonight.’
She drank, and stopped to ask, ‘What happens tomorrow?’
‘Hard to say,’ he replied. ‘If Future’s men decide to make a final honourable stand before the forest, then we’ll have ourselves a big battle. If they decide to keep running and hiding, we’ll be going into the forest after them.’
‘In my dream, the battle happens before the forest,’ she said.
‘Then let’s hope your dream is right. It would certainly solve a few matters—like this war,’ he laconically replied.
‘Have you found Treasure?’
‘No one fitting his description has turned up. It would help if we had his last name.’
‘I never asked,’ Meg admitted quietly.
‘What will you do if he’s not here?’
‘Go home,’ she finally said.
Blade gazed across the landscape at the shadowed hills and bushland, and the pair listened to the sounds of the camp behind them—fragments of men’s voices, sporadic dog barks. ‘Sometimes soldiers don’t tell the truth to the girls they meet,’ he said. When Meg remained silent, he added, ‘I know, because I’ve done it.’ Her continued silence only drove him on. ‘Her name was Janine. We were camped outside a town, to the south, and she came with food with her sisters to our camp.’
‘I don’t need to know this,’ Meg said nervously.
He coughed and apologised. ‘I’ll send Nails out to replace you. When you come back you can sleep in my tent.’
‘I think it would be better if I slept outside like last—’ she began.
‘—and freeze,’ he interjected. ‘You’ll sleep in my tent. Since you’re pretending you’re a soldier, then pretend that’s an order, soldier.’ He turned on his heel and strode back into the camp, leaving Meg alone.
Nails arrived shortly after, greeted her brusquely and told her he hated night duty, and let her leave without forcing further conversation. She walked back into the camp, dragging her spear. There were small groups of men huddled around some fires, but most had already retired, and large sections of the camp were fireless. The day’s marching and fighting must have worn them out too, even if they were trained to be used to it. Five men sat at the fire where her Group were encamped, but Blade stood and directed her to his tent. She noticed the others nod to her as she passed at the edge of the firelight. Blade held the flap aside. ‘I’ll be a while before I come to bed. You can get organised and get some sleep. I’ll take the shield and spear.’
Inside the tent, Meg removed her helmet and corslet, and sighed as she scratched her itching head and body. She found six woollen blankets, and took two, laying one along the ground. She wrapped herself tight in the second blanket and curled up, her head resting on her sack. Her body ached. It was good to lie down. It was good to feel sleep washing in.
Red eyes were watching her from a distance, but her attention was drawn to the broad meadow and the dark forest wall. She knew that it was still dark and yet she
could see the landscape as if the sun was high in the sky. The rider would emerge from the forest soon. She had to find Treasure.
I need you, a voice whispered in her head.
I’m coming, she replied, but everywhere she turned she faced a wall of silver shields and soldiers blocking her way. She pushed and the walls resisted.
Release me, the voice crooned.
I can’t find you! she screamed, and pushed frantically. I can’t find you!
‘Hey. It’s me,’ Blade was saying, as she opened her eyes to lantern light. ‘Get up.’
She shook her head, dream images fading in the flickering lantern flame. ‘What’s happening?’
‘Get your corslet and helmet on. Quickly. I’ve been called to a meeting.’ He put the lantern on the ground by the tent entrance and left before she could ask for more details. Through the flap she could see that it was still dark outside. She scrambled into her clothes, reluctantly slipping the heavy jerkin over her head and onto her tender shoulders. She found a sword and dagger in scabbards leaning against her helmet. She put them aside and fitted her helmet.