Supporting troops by Andrei-Pervukhin on DeviantArt | Fantasy city, Fantasy castle, Fantasy landscape [https://i.pinimg.com/736x/bd/94/0d/bd940d42665d2caeb74e03b21f6a3d4e.jpg]
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Left to his own devices as men began to mount all around him, Walter again wondered what in the saint's name he was doing here? When a gruff voice spoke to him. “So you’re the freshmeat that has been attached to my squadron. Bloody hell, you look greener than a bag of turnips.”
Spinning around to face a man with a weather beaten complexion, a square jawline, and a pair of hard green eyes, the wiry soldier held out a heavily calloused hand. “I’m Corporal Hankel, your new commanding officer, and leader of this here troop of scoundrels,” he said with a wave in the direction of a dozen heavily armed men in badly mended uniforms. “We call ourselves the Sky Hounds.”
And despite already half guessing the answer, Walter asked, “Why do you call yourselves that?”
To which the men responded by viciously barking like a pack of wild animals, a few of them even going so far as to even imitate the terrifying beast perfectly as Walter fell backwards a step.
Laughing in delight at his reaction, Walter felt his cheeks go red as everyone in the courtyard stared at him. Feeling their scrutiny like hot pokers in his skin, he again felt the urge to hide away somewhere, when Corporal Hankel clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, lad, they’re all bark and no bite, at least not to their friends. Stick with us, lad, and we’ll keep you safe. Just make sure you don’t get left behind. Which reminds me, do you have a mount?”
Head shaking from side to side in response, Walter saw the senior warrior grimace, before the Corporal pointed to a gray nag still in one of the stables. “Used to be Taldrok’s before he took an arrow to the knee. Couldn’t really move about much then,” he said with a chuckle, “Now I know High Star don’t look like much, but that old warhorse has been carrying warriors into battle for years. He won’t get nervous, and if you treat him well, he’ll keep you alive,” he finished with a broad smile, before he growled, “Well, what are you waiting for?! Get moving, lad, we’ll be moving out soon!”
Hurrying away to tug the horse’s reins free, Walter felt a touch of apprehension at the thought of riding a horse for the first time. Having never ridden anything with four legs before, he recalled a story where his friend Penny had told him how her uncle had once gotten kicked in the head. An occurrence that had left the man completely unconscious for months.
All but avoiding the haunches in case that should ever happen, he stared into the beast’s honey brown eyes and couldn’t help but sense its disapproval as it flared its nostrils. Trying to reassure himself that he was simply overthinking it, he patted the horse on the head, and stuck his foot in one stirrup. Half trying to leap into the saddle with the other leg, he tripped on something, and fell down with a heavy clang. Hearing the soldiers’ laugh in amusement, Walter felt his blood begin to boil as he tried again and again, each time the horse swaying a little from side to side.
Nearly giving up hope and wondering if he was eternally cursed to fail at everything, Walter considered simply just walking to the forest. Surely there had to be men out there that preferred their own two feet to a horse? And just as he was thinking that he heard a woman’s voice speak over to him from the next stall. “You need to keep High Star still, put your left foot in the stirrup first, bend your knee a little, and half lean over the horse as you slowly slide your other foot across.”
Nearly tripping and falling again at the unexpected sound, Walter wondered who that could possibly be? Surely, none of the maids would dain enough to help him, but before he could think further on the matter, he followed her instructions, and finally let out a small smile of relief. Well, that was the first part over with, he thought, and he despite everything that had happened to him that day he felt pride at his accomplishment.
Sitting in the saddle comfortably with the ease of a natural rider, Walter couldn’t help but wonder why his father would often complain about Hemlock, their old chestnut horse when the woman continued, “Listen, when you need to move, just give High Star a gentle nudge in the ribs and give him plenty of rein. He knows what he needs to do.”
Still confused as to who was helping him, Walter asked, “I thank you for your assistance, but who are you?”
To which the woman snapped back, “That is none of your concern! You just keep High Star alive! Or I will gut you like a fish! Also don’t forget to move with the horse!”
Her unexpected retort sharp as a knife as Walter watched Lord Huxelberry’s retinue arrive through the castle gates. Equipped in an ornate suit of heavy armor, the old lord looked every inch the steely warrior Walter had been told of in stories but even he could tell the nobleman was struggling to breathe as he re-adjusted his chestplate. Carrying a mace on his hip, and pistol holstered across his broad chest, he guided his huge bay gelding to front of his assembled men. He then gestured at Captain Thornigrad to speak, the veteran warrior bellowing, “Corporal William I want your men at the foreguard! Lieutenant McCreedy, have your men watch our flanks! And Corporal Hankel, get your men formed up at our rear! Ready yourselves, gentlemen! We ride out!”
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The whip crack command, sending men scrambling to reform themselves into a serpentine column as Thornigrad alongside Huxelberry led them off at a brisk trot, each squadron folding into two lines before fanning outward once past the gates.
Almost their turn as he saw Corporal Hankel’s men begin to line up, Walter gave High Star a nudge in the ribs, and the horse immediately shifted into action. Bouncing up and down as the horse took up a position alongside a brawny warrior with a few gaps in his teeth, the pony lifted its head proudly, while Walter tried his best to move in motion with the horse.
Quickly increasing their pace as they rode out onto the dirt road, the column was swiftly moving back towards the farmhouse that had been attacked. Walter, who was shocked at how bumpy the ride was, could feel his rump being beaten silly as the big man alongside him chuckled, his cold dead eyes making it appear more menacing than it was supposed to be.
Again trying to take the woman’s advice, he attempted to capture the rhythm of the horse, and eventually as they crossed the river, and neared the farmhouse, he thought he was getting the hang of it. Still, beaten blue and black by the time they came to a sudden halt, Walter realized they had stopped in front of what was left of the widow’s farmhouse. Burnt to ashes with the ground scorched all around them, Walter wondered where the undead creatures had disappeared off to? When Lord Huxelberry and Captain Thornigrad broke off to inspect the burnt remains of the house. He also wondered where the Sergeant was when he spotted the big man in what was left of the doorway,
Giving Walter a tired smile as he stepped out into the noon sun, the Sergeant looked utterly exhausted, his clothing covered in soot. “Glad to see you made it back okay, recruit.” He then turned to face Lord Huxelberry and Captain Thornigrad. Bowing his head, he grunted, “My lord. Captain. I hadn’t expected you to come so soon. I have done what I could to get rid of the bodies, but as it is, I believe the soil has already been poisoned by their tainted flesh.”
His hand held up dismissed, Lord Huxelberry leaned forward in the saddle. “Never mind that, man, tell us everything that you have found out.”
Nudging High Star a little forward as they spoke together in hushed tones, Walter listened as the Sergeant recounted everything Walter had already told them. But there was more that he must not have missed as he moved in a little closer. “...I’ve already gone over everything with her over a half dozen times, my lord. There is no more good to be gained from speaking with her again. She says the sorcerer that came was garbed in black robes, wore a red face mask, and spoke with a lilting accent common among the elves. Other than that, the only other useful information I have gotten out of her is that they left in the same direction as they came, which could mean their camp is closeby.”
Slapping a gauntleted fist into his palm, Lord Huxelberry grumbled,“That is not enough to go on, Sergeant. We need to know their numbers? How well equipped are they? And how many camps do they have in the forest? We can’t go wandering about, not in there unless we all want to end up dead.”
His brows furrowed at that, Durgan seemed to look in Walter’s direction, before he continued, “There is one way we could get that information.”
Blue eyes turned quizzical, Huxelberry replied, “How’s that?”
“We send the boy under a banner of truce to speak with their leader.” Stomach dropping at mere suggestion, Walter opened his mouth to protest even as Captain Thornigrad intervened, “By the Holy Saints do you want to get the lad killed?!”
Shaking his head from side to side, Durgan continued, “My lords, we have to assume that Robar has many spies hidden among the castle staff, how else could he have known that there would be no patrols in this area. The schedule is changed daily and our guards keep a tight lid on rosters for fear of being ambushed. Walter, however, is new to the garrison, and Robar might be tempted into recruiting him.”
Expression darkening at each word, Huxelberry’s chin quivered, before he eventually turned to face Walter who had gotten far too close for comfort. “Since this conversation seems to interest you, perhaps the Sergeant is correct, and this is the only way we’ll learn anything about the enemy. If we march into the forest now, there’s a good chance Robar will slip away and cause more damage. So what do you say, soldier? Are you ready to serve your liege lord?”
With three sets of eyes gazing at him suddenly, Walter found it hard to believe how fast everything had changed for him. It was unthinkable, insane, and a multitude of other explicit words. But in the end, Walter simply nodded his head, a part of fearing that the next attack might be on his home, and that thought alone was enough for him.
Smiling at his reply, Lord Huxelberry patted him on the back. “Glad to hear it, soldier. Now listen well, the forest is infested with bloodwings. They’re much like bats but instead they very much enjoy the taste of fresh blood. So for the saint’s sake be careful in there and don’t get yourself injured or they’ll be on you in a matter of seconds. Now we don’t know how Robar’s men are getting in and out of the forest unmolested but you’ll have to assume it's some devilry concocted by a sorcerer, if so do what you can to find out what it is. Which reminds me, be careful what you say around that one.”
“Why is that, m’lord?”
With a wave of his hand, Huxelberry shrugged his shoulders. “Well, it could be conjecture at this point, but there are rumors that some mages are able to detect lies. Popcock if you ask me.” But seeing the grave look on Walter’s face, Huxelberry waved his arm up in the air. “But like I said it could simply be a lie spread by the Archdiocese of Preternia to spread fear mongering among the citizens of the New World. Now your main priority will not only be to infiltrate Robar’s company, but assess the number of soldiers he has under his command, the kind of equipment they’ve supplied with, and the locations of their camps. Do that, and you’ll aid us greatly.”
Taking a deep breath as he readied himself to leave, Walter wondered why so many people would go missing in the forest if all they needed to was not get cut or scratched up? Shouldn’t it be safe then? Pondering those thoughts as well as his new assignment, he saw Sergeant Durgan nod his head for him to follow. “Walter, a moment.”
Taking him aside, the big warrior scratched his beard, and sighed. “I know this ain’t your typical first mission, but you’re a smart and capable lad, even if you just don’t know it yet. But if things do go wrong in there, you do what you can to save yourself. Don’t you worry about his Lordship. But in the meantime, I’ll have some of the boys watching the perimeter in case there is trouble. Give a whistle and they’ll be there to help you out. Goodluck, recruit, and the saints favor your blade.”