If there was one thing about being a [Squad Leader] that Warden Serril Catullus both loved and loathed in equal measure, it was the rookies. He loved mentoring them and watching them learn and grow, becoming better warriors, better Wardens, better men and women. He loathed the way they somehow, somehow – despite two full years of the best military education the Empire could provide – always came to his squad dumb as a sack of rocks. This new kid was no exception.
Serril’s unit, 2nd Squad of 8th Blade, had set out from the Stronghold this morning on what should have been a standard patrol. Thanks to this year’s rookie, Junior Warden Cirris Imbrex, the sun was setting and they’d not yet reached their halfway point…where they had intended to pause for lunch.
It wasn’t entirely the kid’s fault, Serril reflected as he ducked beneath a particularly long branch, shifting his tall tower shield to the side so he wouldn’t knock his nose on the rim. Cirris had graduated from Nicostratus Military Academy two days earlier and this was his first official Warden patrol. The Academy instructors had ensured the kid got his first ten levels in an appropriate combat class, of course, but had apparently neglected one tiny, seemingly unimportant piece of his education. The behavioural patterns of rurrils during a certain point in their reproductive cycle was entirely unimportant information, except if one happened to be traveling through the forest in spring, like, say, a Warden squad on patrol.
Really, the important little tidbit was only relevant in certain situations. Everybody knew that rurills were harmless, that the cute little tree-dwelling rodents avoided interactions with all creatures bigger than themselves, including humans. But not everybody knew that, for a short, three-week span every spring – from the time the rurill females birthed their litters in ground-level burrows until the young creatures were old enough to follow their parents into the tree tops – the males of the species guarded their families with uncharacteristic vehemence. Cirris could be forgiven for not knowing the rurills’ one peculiarity, for he had been raised in the eastern plains, while rurills lived in the deep forests.
Serril had counted on the Academy to have educated young Cirris in all the potential dangers a Warden might face, regardless of where in the Empire he found himself posted. Perhaps, Serril reflected, rurills hadn’t been included in that list because they, by themselves, and even at their worst, weren’t so much dangerous as a nuisance. The things attracted by their defensive pheromones, on the other hand, those could be dangerous, but the rurills were just a nuisance. A damn nuisance, Serril thought with a grunt of irritation. A nuisance that could be avoided entirely if one only knew…he sighed and reminded himself not to let frustration cloud his thoughts or distract him from his surroundings.
The squad did have a [Scout], and Radyn Rufinis was a superb example of his class who could be trusted to give his fellow Wardens ample warning of approaching threats, but the man couldn’t cover all angles of approach at all times. Even if he could, Serril was [Squad Leader], and as such, it behooved him to be on constant guard.
Radyn was out of sight at the moment, ranging ahead, but Serril could feel the slight tug from his [Unit Bond] skill that indicated the [Scout]’s presence and direction. It was a very useful skill for leaders of small groups like the Warden squads. If Radyn was injured, the magical link would flare in Serril’s mind; the more serious the injury, the more intense the magical alarm. If the link vanished, Serril would know his old friend was dead. On the other hand, if Radyn stepped out into view from between the trees before they reached their designated rendezvous, it would only be to deliver a warning. So long as the [Bond] remained a quiet mental hum, and Radyn remained out of sight, Serril could confidently focus on his immediate surroundings and his other subordinates.
A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that Melori Getha was still bringing up the rear of their little formation. She was a tall, thickly-muscled woman, with dark skin, light brown eyes, and short-cut black hair hidden beneath her helmet and arming cap. Seen from a distance, with the many layers of leather and metal disguising the shape of her figure, it was quite possible to mistake the armoured Warden for a man, but no one who saw her at close range would ever make that error, for Melori’s face was astonishingly beautiful and utterly feminine.
In the privacy of his own mind, Serril often reflected that her face would be even more beautiful still if she didn’t maintain such a solemn expression. He had seen her smile twice in the nearly eight years during which she’d served in his squad. There had been many instances of politely curved lips, for Melori understood the value of observing social niceties when amongst strangers – especially when those strangers were high-level officers, politicians, or members of the nobility, such as any Warden posted to the Stronghold inevitably bumped into from time to time – but true smiles, born of real emotion, rarely graced her face.
Serril cherished the memories of those smiles, like he cherished the memory of the great elven high city, which only twelve humans, he among them, had ever been permitted to see, and that at a distance. That remembered image in his mind was of a rare and exquisite thing, and it was enshrined in his memory right next to the two true smiles of Melori Getha.
She had smiled at a child, a frightened young girl in a small village on the edge of the forest; a smile so full of reassurance and maternal comfort that the girl had immediately wiped her tears and led the squad through the ruins of her home to where her fellow survivors had hidden from [Bandits]. What the girl hadn’t seen in the smile was the undercurrent of sadness, a grief so thick that Serril was shaken by the mere hint of its depths, and yet the smile had been made all the more beautiful by that thread of loss.
And then, just last year, Melori had smiled in startled amusement in response to a joke told by their squad’s previous rookie. It must have been a truly extraordinary joke but Serril had no memory of its details, only the smile it provoked.
Now, as he saw Melori’s hard eyes roving back and forth, checking their back trail, ensuring nothing ambushed the squad from behind, Serril wondered once again what the woman’s story was…and once again he reminded himself that his respect for the experienced warrior was too great to condone prying into her closely guarded past.
Reaching a slightly wider part of the trail, Serril stopped and turned around. Melori’s gaze immediately met his and she gave him a slight nod. Her expression and body language already told him what he needed to know, but for the sake of the inexperienced kid hunched miserably on the trail between them, Serril vocalized the question: “Anything to report, Warden Getha?”
Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
“Nothing new, sir,” she replied. Her eyes flickered to Cirris’ bowed shoulders and her gaze softened in a way that Serril had learned indicated amusement.
“The rurill pheromones seem to have faded enough that we’re no longer attracting monsters, and there don’t appear to be any more rurill burrows in the immediate area. We’re in the clear for the moment, sir.”
Melori’s eyes were fairly sparkling with laughter by the time she finished her report, and Serril felt his breath catch as her lips twitched. It wasn’t a smile, not really, but anything that brought joy to his somber subordinate was a blessing. He suspected she had seen far too little of it in her relatively short life (short compared to his, which – Serril would ruefully admit – wasn’t that hard of a bar to pass).
Serril suddenly felt much more cheerful about the mess this patrol had become, but he quickly realized that the kid was oblivious to the undertones of his fellow Warden’s words, for the rookie’s shoulders slumped even further as Melori gave her report, though whether it was from relief or embarrassment Serril couldn’t tell. He found himself grinning as he braced his short thrusting spear in the crook of his left elbow and used his right hand to clap the boy on his armoured shoulder.
“Cheer up, young Imbrex,” he said. “Every new Warden has some disaster or another within the first ten patrols. It’s practically tradition. You just need to focus on the positives.”
He gave the youth a little shake, making the kid’s shiny new chain mail hauberk rattle and the stiff new leather straps squeak. Out of the corner of his eye, Serril saw Melori wince as she returned to scanning the forest, ever alert for danger. He mentally shrugged. It wasn’t like the kid had taken a stealth class that relied on silent movement, and he’d get his armour properly oiled and broken in soon enough. A little extra noise now wasn’t worth a lecture in the field on the boy’s first day. That could wait until they returned to barracks.
Unaware of his superior’s mental tangent, young Cirris Imbrex finally raised his head and met his [Squad Leader]’s gaze. The young man flinched at the intensity of those dark eyes beneath frosted brows, but he straightened his shoulders and stood his ground. Serril nodded approvingly. The kid had grit; he would go far.
“Alright. Back to it, then,” Serril said, taking up his spear and raising his shield from where he’d allowed it to rest upon the toe of his armoured boot. The shield was enormous but Serril had the strength and Skills to match. If need be, he could fight for hours on end without once lowering the massive bulwark. Still, he was a veteran of enough Imperial campaigns and Warden missions to know that stewarding one’s strength was just as important as any class-given Skill, maybe even more so. And sometimes that meant resting his shield on his foot.
It was one of the many lessons Serril intended to teach the young man in the months to come, but it could wait. For the moment, as the three Wardens walked forward once more, Serril was pleased to note that Cirris’ footsteps sounded significantly livelier than before. He was waiting patiently for the inevitable question, and it took only a few minutes for Cirris to work up the nerve.
“Sir,” the Junior Warden began, careful not to raise his voice beyond operational parameters, “you said to focus on the positives, but what exactly is positive about…uh…about…my mistake?”
Serril almost snorted out a short laugh but managed to swallow it in time.
“Well, young Imbrex,” he said, voice pitched to carry over his shoulder but not deep into the trees. “To start with, you have a great story with which to regale young rookies, and in a few years you might not mind telling it.”
A very quietly muttered invective told Serril it might be more than a few years before his newest protégé would be willing to reveal the events of his first patrol. Serril’s lips twitched but he pretended not to have heard the cussing. Best to let the lad have his dignity, he thought, before returning to his list.
“Secondly, that is one mistake you will never make again. And thirdly, you’ve given me an excuse to chew out those self-important fellows at the Academy about not properly preparing the next generation of Wardens.”
Serril’s grin slipped into a frown after a moment’s thought and he sighed sadly and with a touch of theatrics. “I’ll probably have to let the [Captain] have that privilege. Politics. Bah!”
Another moment of thought and he continued, now without any traces of levity or showmanship. “Most importantly, young Imbrex, no one was seriously injured and no one died.” He glanced over his shoulder and met the young man’s solemn gaze. “Not all rookies can say the same about their first mistakes. You did well, lad…all things considered.”
Serril’s face broke into a sly grin but this time the kid grinned back, and even Melori smirked faintly from the rear.
Success, Serril though. Rookie reassured, wisdom dispensed, team spirit improved; all in a day’s work.
His good mood evaporated in an instant when he felt a strong tug on the [Unit Bond]; it was Radyn.
“Alert formation,” he ordered in a crisp, calm tone, setting himself into a defensive stance. Cirris took position behind and to the side of his right shoulder, while Melori stepped up to his left. Serril had chosen his position carefully. He would anchor their formation – and take the brunt of any attack – while a pair of thick cedar trees would protect their backs and his companions would watch the flanks.
He could see the bronze head of Cirris’ spear extending past his right shoulder. The sharp, deadly weapon was steady and unwavering, despite the tension the rookie surely felt. He heard Melori slap a bolt into her crossbow then check her short sword in its scabbard. There was a beat, during which she was undoubtedly checking to be certain Cirris was also ready to engage any threat, and then she spoke.
“Radyn?”
Cirris twitched when Serril nodded.
“He signaled. We wait,” Serril said.
Melori let out a soft breath of relief, and then Serril heard her quietly explaining to the Junior Warden.
“Radyn is a [Deep Forest Scout], Gold Rank,” she said. “He has a skill that lets him send simple signals through his direct commander’s [Unit Bond].”
“So he’s not injured?” Cirris asked.
“He is not,” Serril confirmed, and sensed some of the tension flow from the young man’s body, “but something is coming. Either it’s a serious threat or it’s moving too fast for Radyn to get back here to warn us the usual way…or it’s something new. So we wait.”
For a long moment, the three Wardens waited in silence, their eyes searching the deepening gloom of the evening forest; then came Cirris’ quiet, confused voice:
“What is a Gold Rank [Scout] doing in a Warden squad instead of the army?”
“It’s…complicated,” was Melori’s equally quiet response.
The kid was smart enough not to push any further and a moment later Radyn ghosted into view on the squad’s left. He stayed off to the side and behind another tree, maintaining the advantage of stealth, but his visible presence was a message that Serril, after nearly two decades of working with the man, immediately understood. He followed Radyn’s eye line and spotted a hint of movement among the trunks. He shifted his position slightly to better face the approaching unknown. His squad matched him, step for step, even the kid. The lad would indeed do well.
The approaching figure was now close enough to identify as human. Female, Serril thought. She was jogging along with her eyes pointed at the ground, weariness evident in every step.
His squad mates now fully alerted to the possible threat, Radyn flickered and vanished, and Serril knew the veteran [Scout] had activated a skill and would be working his way around behind the unknown woman.
Just then, the woman stumbled and finally looked up, gaping at the armed and armoured formation of warriors facing her.
“Uh…hi,” she said uncertainly.