Gutter Rats: Origins Chapter 6

Sergeant Tairus came into the sleeping quarters early one morning a few weeks later. “Good news, men. There’s no training today.”

The news was received with a few groggy cheers. Everyone was heartily sick of training.

“No training,” Tairus continued, “because we’re going to be marching!”

The cheers turned into curses.

“That’s right. You men have earned a lovely holiday on the Crodin border. Pack your kit, but don’t bother bringing any sand. You know why?”

“Why?” Rome asked. He was the only one who looked excited. Quyloc hated him for it.

“Because the one thing they got a lot of there is sand. Mountains and mountains of it.”

“You don’t have to sound so happy,” Krev complained. “I don’t want to die in a firestorm.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Dravit said. “You’ll most likely die of something else before you get the chance to die in a firestorm. There’s scorpions. Black as night, big as your hand. Rattlesnakes too. They hide under the sand. You can’t even see them until it’s too late.”

Krev moaned.

“Shut up, Dravit,” Tairus said. “Or you’re going to spend every patrol on lead. You got that?”

Dravit grumbled, throwing him a dark look.

“Hit the mess, then load up and line up,” Tairus said. “Make it fast. We’ve got some leagues to cover before this day is over.”

After breakfast, Quyloc started packing his kit. Around him the other soldiers were doing the same. Rome looked over.

“Are you really going to bring that?”

He was referring to Quyloc’s book, The History of Atria. It was bulky and heavy.

“I’d rather leave the chain mail than the book.” Quyloc meant it too. They’d been issued chain mail recently to wear over their leather armor, and he hated it. It was heavy, and it slowed him down. He couldn’t fight well in the stuff. But Tairus had made it clear that everyone was to bring their chain mail.

Rome raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. He wasn’t surprised. Quyloc had his nose stuck in that book every free moment he had. The men had finally given up teasing him about it. It did no good. He simply ignored them.

They lined up outside with the other squads of Eagle Company. Captain Lepold emerged from his quarters, trailed by his lieutenant. The captain was in his forties, sun-bronzed by years in the field, the scars telling the story of many battles survived. He had a long mustache, and a pipe clenched in his teeth.

The men stood straighter. None wanted to draw the disapproval of their captain.

He walked up and down their lines, eyeing them closely, muttering something to his aide now and then. Then he stood in front of them.

“Today we leave for the Crodin border. It won’t be easy. The Crodin are fierce fighters. But I know you will do your duty and make me proud. I know you will not let me down.”

The men cheered his words. Even Quyloc did, though he generally found the speeches from superior officers to be idiotic. But there was something about Lepold. Men felt a need to earn his approval, to measure up in his eyes.

Soon they were marching through the streets of Qarath, ten squads of Eagle Company, close to a hundred men.

“Finally,” Rome said. “It’s really happening.”

Quyloc gave him a sidelong look but said nothing. He was already dreading the march. The chain mail was heavy. The short sword he’d been issued banged against his knee with every step. At least he didn’t have to carry his spear. The spears were stacked in one of the supply wagons, along with all the shields.

Rome reached back to touch the gleaming battleaxe strapped to his back. “I’m glad the sergeant let me switch weapons.” Most of the soldiers in their company carried short swords or maces. “Swords and maces just don’t feel right to me.”

“So you like the axe, which is basically a sword and a mace mixed together,” Quyloc said before Rome could. He’d already said the same thing twice.

“Exactly!”

Not many citizens turned out to watch them march by. A few old men leaning on their canes. A handful of children. But Rome waved and mugged for them as if it was a victory parade.

They marched through the city gates and out onto the broad plain outside the walls. There Captain Lepold called a halt. Two more companies would be joining them, along with a general.

In due time the other companies appeared, Badger and Fox. They took their positions and waited.

And waited.

It was almost noon, and Lepold was mad enough to bite nails when the general appeared. He was wearing bright silver armor chased in gold and riding a prancing white stallion. His helmet—far too ornate and cumbersome for actual battle—sported two tall plumes. His horse wore armor too and had a plume sprouting from its bridle.

Behind him came a palanquin, its curtains hiding the person inside. After the palanquin were the general’s personal guard, eight mounted men in full armor. Their sleeveless tabards were blue and black with a rearing horse embroidered on them. One of them carried the general’s flag on a long pole.

“They’re going to hate that armor before this is over,” Telin remarked. He said his uncle had served on the Crodin border. He’d adopted the role of expert ever since Tairus said they might be headed there. “It bogs you down in the sand and draws every arrow in the sky. The Crodin love taking down armored soldiers.”

Behind the personal guard came a large contingent of servants and maids. Last of all were three large wagons drawn by oxen.

The procession came to a stop when it reached the three waiting companies. An aide scurried out to speak with the captains. Quyloc was close enough to Captain Lepold to see his face turn red while the aide was relaying his message. The aide rode away. The captain addressed his men.

“It seems His Lord would like to inspect the men before we move out.” The words came out strangled. It was clear he was trying not to curse. “Sergeants. Proceed.”

Eagle Company marched double file past the watching general. Up close, Quyloc was surprised to see how young he was, no older than he or Rome. He sat on his horse, expressionless, the very picture of haughty pride. Quyloc disliked him instantly.

“By the gods,” Rome muttered as they passed the young general, “is that child going to be giving us orders?”

“Welcome to the king’s army,” Dravit replied.

The general must have seen something he didn’t like because all the companies were ordered to march past him a second time. Halfway through the second inspection, he rode over to the palanquin. He drew the curtain partway open and leaned in to speak to whoever was inside.

Quyloc, watching Captain Lepold while this was happening, thought the captain’s head might explode.

Finally, they were cleared to march. Naturally, the general and his entourage went first so they didn’t have to breathe the dust from the troops. Unfortunately, they moved at a snail’s pace. Many times, the soldiers were forced to stop and wait.

They set up camp long before sunset on a broad plain beside a shallow river. Soldiers were conscripted to set up the general’s pavilion, a massive thing that could have slept almost all of Eagle Company. Lepold was in a terrible mood.

“We only made three leagues today. Three! My grandmother could have walked further. At this rate, it will be winter by the time we get there.”

The next day was better, but not by much. The young general, Lord Stanley, slept until late morning. Then he dined and dithered, and they didn’t get underway until after midday. At least his entourage moved somewhat faster. Not fast enough to mollify Lepold and the other captains though.

The force moved slowly west and south across Qarathian territory. The going was easy for the first week as they were still in a well-traveled part of the kingdom. Gradually, the terrain grew rougher. The road was narrow, badly rutted and full of rocks. Several wagons broke their axles. They were finally starting their days earlier, but their pace was reduced so much that they still only covered a few leagues a day.

After Krev helped set up the pavilion one afternoon, he reported that he’d heard Lord Stanley chewing out his commanders. “He’s angry because of the road. As if it’s somehow our fault!”

“Goddamn kid is going to get us all killed,” Dravit growled. “Just you wait and see.”

Glane wanted to know if Krev had seen the mysterious palanquin passenger. None of the soldiers had gotten a look yet and speculation was rampant, as was the betting.

“I saw her, but only from behind and only for a moment. No, I can’t tell you anything about her. She was heavily veiled as always.”

Most of the money was on her being Stanley’s wife or consort. A few were betting it was his mother, but there weren’t many of them, and they were getting long odds.

The terrain grew rougher. Sand and rocks replaced grasslands. The few trees they saw were mostly dead. The rivers turned to dry sand. They were descending as they went. The climate grew hotter. Canyons appeared, still shallow but getting deeper. High, rocky buttes appeared on the skyline.

“If the Crodin want this land, I say we let them take it and good riddance,” Dravit said, echoing a sentiment shared by many of the soldiers.

Two days later the road led into a wide, shallow canyon, the walls sheer sandstone cliffs. For the first time in days, they saw running water. There was a narrow ribbon of water flowing down the sandy bottom of the canyon. Huge cottonwood trees lined the banks. The wagons bogged down in the sand, but other than that it was easy going.

They reached the settlement near the end of the day.

“There is it, the booming city of Last Water,” Telin said. “The last civilization we’ll see.”

Last Water wasn’t much, maybe five hundred residents. There were some patchy fields and lots of goats. A stout, rock wall surrounded the place. Hanging from the wall were two badly decayed bodies, probably Crodin hung there as a warning to the others, Quyloc thought.

All the soldiers stared at Last Water eagerly, everyone hoping they’d be allowed to go into the settlement.

That hope was thoroughly dashed by a general order passed through the camp by the sergeants. Any soldier caught near the settlement would be lashed.

The gate opened and a small retinue came out to welcome Lord Stanley.

“How much further to the fort?” Rome asked Telin.

Telin thought about it. Quyloc figured he didn’t know but didn’t want to admit it. He said, “We should get there tomorrow. Or the next day.”

“I wish we were there right now.” Rome took out his precious axe and began to sharpen and oil it.

Quyloc took advantage of the early stop and got out his book to read while there was still light. Rome looked over at him.

“Learn anything interesting?”

Quyloc nodded. “During the later years of the Kaetrian Empire, the Tenders of Xochitl practically ran the empire. They and the Takare warriors, anyway.”

Rome gave him a quizzical look. “The Tenders? Those pathetic old women everyone hates?” There were only a few Tenders in Qarath, and they kept a low profile knowing they were handy targets for angry citizens whenever something went wrong. Their order was outlawed, and they were forbidden from practicing or showing any signs of their faith.

“They weren’t pathetic back then. They had power, real power.”

“They were witches or something, right? I think I heard something like that.”

“Not witches. They worshipped Xochitl. They had abilities you wouldn’t believe. It says they could drain a man’s life just by looking at him.”

Rome scoffed. “Sounds like witch nonsense.”

Quyloc shook his head. “It wasn’t. They were powerful enough that even the Emperor bent the knee to them. Their main temple was in the ruins of Old Qarath.” Outside Qarath, set into the lower foothills of the Eagle Mountains, were the remains of Old Qarath. Old Qarath was abandoned centuries ago and was widely considered to be cursed.

“What happened to them?”

“The Empire fell. Something happened at a place called Wreckers Gate. The Takare left the Empire, and it fell apart. Around that time, Xochitl turned her back on her followers and disappeared. The Tenders’ power disappeared too. People turned on them, destroyed their temples, killed most of them.”

“It sounds like they made too many enemies.”

Quyloc closed the book with frustration. “There’s not enough information on the Tenders. They had a holy book called the Lay of Xochitl. I really want to read that.”

“Which means you’ll be buying it next?”

“If I could. All known copies were destroyed.”

“Maybe the Tenders in Qarath have one. Why are you so interested in them, anyway? They’re nothing now.”

“Because maybe the answers I’m looking for are in there.”

Rome stopped sharpening. “You’re talking about those feelings you get. You want to know what they are, where they come from.”

“Yeah.”

Rome shrugged. “You get them. They’re helpful. I still don’t see why you have to know more. You have an ability no one else does. Isn’t that enough?”

“No. It’s not. I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me again.”

“It’s…I feel like I’m at the edge of something. I feel like there’s a whole unseen world around me. I could see it, if I could just pull back the blanket that’s hiding it.”

“Unseen world? Are you sure you didn’t take a knock on the head? Look at Kazim. He’s still not right after you knocked him out twice.”

“No, Rome,” Quyloc said icily, suddenly coldly angry. “I didn’t take a knock on the head. I’m not imagining things. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Go to next chapter.