Chapter 3

I prepare to face my death

The battle briefing was the normal ordeal. The commander tried and failed to get me all hyped up for a slaughterfest. I hated the way that I had always been told that being in the army was a good deed. It was an honour, and I should be proud to serve my kingdom. But I had never felt proud of the things I had done. I knew that I didn’t have a choice, but the screams on the battlefield still haunted my dreams. I wished I could go home, but the only way I would be going home any time soon would be in a clay jar marked with my name for my parents to bury (ashes were easier to transport than bodies).

The commander began his speech by saying, "Today we win back the Kâlimèth border. We cannot allow them to get any closer to the port city of Kâlimèth. Without that port, we lose all connection to Credia, and without their trade, we will lose this war,” he always told us how important the battle would be. If it was so important, why were no more men being sent our way? The commander was probably too busy doing his hair to send a letter to the capital.

We had been trying to push the Tiffers away from the Kâlimèth border for the last four months. All we had achieved was over a hundred dead men. It had been going great. Even though the prospects of this battle were shit the assembled soldiers cheered in response to the commander’s hollow words.

“I want Bwânnéia platoons one, five, six, eight, nine, twelve,” he stopped halfway through his list to turn to his assistant. His assistant whispered something in his ear, then the commander continued, “fourteen, fifteen, nineteen, and twenty at the front of the wedge formation. I’m sure your lieutenants can organise the rest.”

What the fuck! My first battle as a Bwânnéia, and I would be one of the first people to reach the enemy. Also, our commander seriously just told us that our lieutenants would finish the organisation of the half the Bwânnéia army. He was so stupid, he probably didn’t know one end of his sword from the other.

I was freaking out so much that I barely listened to the rest of the commander’s speech. From what I did listen to, I understood we would be using a wedge formation. That was different; we normally did a square formation. We can all see how that had been going, so it was probably a good thing it was changed.

I wanted to feel excited to kill a bunch of people, I really did. But the very real threat of death was all I could think about. Weird, huh? The battle was coming closer and closer, and so was the prospect of my death. Or, even worse, the deaths of my friends. I couldn’t deal with one of them dying. I would prefer my own death over theirs. This war was so pointless anyway. Why did Tiffer feel the need for more land? It was stupid. And their stupidity had then led to a hundred-year war whose only achievement was death and maybe a few kilometres of extra land. This was now just a war to see who was more stubborn, or maybe just more stupid.

My thoughts started racing out of control. Before I could fully lose the plot, I took Calla’s hand. My thoughts slowed. I felt the panic ease, rushing out of me with every breath. I don’t know how, but Calla had the power to ground me. To pull me back. He must have sensed my panic because he pulled me into him, wrapping his arm around me.

“Tam su feem en. Ga umu turema.” You are all right. I am here. Calla's soft voice washed the darkness from my mind.

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I looked up at his perfect face, “boomba.” Thank you.

He didn’t reply. He knew he didn’t need to. He just smiled down at me and pulled me closer to his chest. I was pressed so tightly against his body that I could hear every heartbeat. I could hear the fear beating in his heart. He was just as scared as me.

* * *

The briefing finished. It was time to prepare for battle. Shit.

I clasped Calla’s hand in a death grip as we headed back to the tent. My hands were shaking, and my heart was beating in my mouth. My thoughts were racing, going to the worst possible scenarios. They were the kind of scenarios that would land me in the mind menders office at school. That woman was completely useless. That was the first and last time I told Mum about my nightmares.

We got to the tent, and I began to pull on our armour. It was leather. Leather! The only thing it would be protecting us from was an angry house cat. All soldiers used to have steel armour. That was before Ossory entered a hundred-year war and still had a plethora of supplies. So, ages ago.

It took me a while to get the very useful armour on because my hands were shaking an excessive amount. Once I had finally gotten the armour on, I attached my sword sheath to my right side. The leather sheath was attached to me with a silver buckled belt.

Calla came towards me. He looked stunning. I don’t know how he pulled off the rage tag army look, but he did. He was so fucking hot. I don’t know how I managed to get a man like him. He came closer to me. He smiled, his perfect dimpled smile. Before I could even think, he swept me off the ground into his arms, spinning me around.

“You look so scary!” I couldn’t see his face, but I could hear him beaming.

He put me back on the ground, and his lips met mine. I wanted that kiss to last forever. But unfortunately, it couldn’t. Nothing ever lasts forever.

I pulled away from the safety and comfort of his arms. I looked at him. He looked at me. I drank in every millimetre of his face. I wanted to remember it. I wanted his face to be so ingrained in my mind that it became a part of me, so even if I lost him, he would live on in my memory.

“Come on love birds.” Pill already had his helmet on. He looked so calm and collected that it was almost unnerving.

“Ready?” I knew it was a stupid question. How can you ever be ready for something like a war?

“I hope so.” I hope so too, Calla. I hope so too.

I strapped my helmet onto my head and grabbed my sword from the floor next to my rucksack. Our swords were the only things still made of iron. The sword was a long, thin rapier with an ornately carved guard. It was gorgeous. It seemed a shame to have to ruin it with Tiffer's blood. I hefted my shield onto my back, even though it was only steel-plated wood, but it was still extremely heavy. All this just felt so wrong.

* * *

We fell into place in our platoon. Our lieutenant, Da-Biwana, was at the front of the group. He was a young man. Maybe early twenties. He had been fighting this war since he was sixteen, the same age I was then. He was lucky to have made it this far. Most died much sooner.

Our commander blew the trumpet, and we began to march. Our steps were in perfect unison. Our arms swung at the same rate. Right angle, then a forty-five-degree angle. Over and over, we swung our arms. It was tiring and stupid.

The sun had fully risen over the mountains now. It bathed us in its warm, comforting light. The day was far too cheerful for what was about to happen. It was as though the sky was mocking us. “Look at this gorgeous day. Now go kill some people.”

The ground was barren from all the times we had marched past this place. A small amount of grass grew on either side of the path, but most of it was brown. Dying due to the dropping temperature and constant trampling. There were only a few green blades left.

The path opened onto the open battlefield. We fell into formation. The Tiffer army already stood waiting for us at the other end of the field. Their spâtètïe had already taken flight, the riders bows were already in their hands, arrows notched.

On the command, I grabbed my shield from my back. I unsheathed my rapier, raising it in front of my body. My heart rate increased to an alarming rate.

Commands were issued. Our spâtètïe took flight. The Tiffer army charged.