The Tales of the Wanderer Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 4) Garrett Robinson (poetry books to read TXT) 📖

and the same is true for all the mercenary companies with which I ever fought. Memory is fickle. Unless a particular story stitched one of my companions tightly in my mind, I forgot them eventually.

Mag and I launched into training our soldiers with great vigor. We set them to the drills we had done in the Upangan Blades. Victon had been an excellent officer, quickly able to turn even the greenest warriors into passable fighters.

And the greenest warriors seemed to be what Kun had given us. Both Mag and I struggled to maintain hope through our dismay. Hallan was the only person in either of our units with any experience in a proper fighting force. I could not tell if Kun had stacked the deck against our success or if our soldiers were representative of the entire army. Something told me it was a combination of the two.

From the start, I began to get a feel for the personalities of those in my squadron. Jian, for example, had a bit of a nasty streak and a frightful temperament.

“You shoot for the head too often,” I told her once. “Of course, you will kill a foe if you strike them between the eyes, but it is a much smaller target. The chest is a more reliable hit, and it will remove your enemy from the fight just as quickly.”

A savage twist came to her mouth, and I could not quite have called it a smile. “That seems sensible. But what about gut shots, then? I have heard those are likely to kill, and painfully. I would not mind letting these dark-damned traitors suffer before ending them.”

I frowned. “They are painful, that is true. But still not as good as the chest. If you shoot for the gut, and your aim is low, you are likely to strike the belt or buckle. That may keep your shot from bringing them down. And if you are off by a wider margin, your arrow might pass between the legs and miss. We aim for the chest because it is the largest target, with the widest margin for error.”

Again she nodded, and she did not seem to notice my unease. “That is sensible, as well. The chest it is, then.” She showed her teeth for a moment and pushed back her rakish hair. “And then if I miss, I may be fortunate and hit the gut after all.”

Chausiku was next to her in the line, and his locs swayed as he turned to glower down at her—far down, for she was less than eight hands tall. “Our purpose is not savagery,” he said. “We are here to save the kingdom, not become torturers.”

Jian turned to face him. “I am here to punish traitors, not to coddle them.”

“Enough, from both of you!” I snapped. “Turn your ire into action. Any more arguing, and you shall be running laps around the training grounds.”

“Yes, ser,” grated Chausiku.

“I am not afraid of running,” muttered Jian. But she turned her attention back to the practice targets, and Chausiku did the same.

Hallan had a more challenging time with his drills at first. I stepped up behind him on that first day and watched as two of his shots whizzed by the dummy.

“Rubbish,” he muttered, his beard twitching. Then he noticed me standing there and lowered his bow, straightening up. “Ser. What can I do for ye?”

“I am only observing,” I told him. “You have good form. How long has it been since you practiced?”

“Long enough that when last I did, my eyes still worked,” he groused. “Form’s easy enough, iss getting the target sighted thass tripping me up.”

“Why do you not have spectacles?” I said. “Taitou may not be a great city, but surely there is a glass-weaver in town.”

“Sure enough there is,” he said with a nod. “Juss never needed them much, I suppose. I’ve been a woodsman for years now, and I can see plenty well enough to bring down a tree. And iss simple living, so I never had much in the way of extra coin to pay for glass.”

“Well, you shall need them if you are to fulfill your duty now,” I said. “And the coin for it can come from the Mystics. I will speak with Tou this evening and arrange it.”

Hallan looked pleasantly surprised, and he bowed, his beard pushing into his chest. “Well, my thanks to you then, ser.” He grunted. “Spectacles, on my ugly old face. Who’d’ve guessed it.”

It was not long before I came to treat Hallan as my unofficial second-in-command. He had a good head on his shoulders, and he could make peace if tensions rose among the squadron—particularly with Chausiku and Jian. When I relayed an order through him, my soldiers obeyed as if it had come straight from my mouth. I tried not to favor him too heavily, of course, for I feared the others might grow jealous. But in fact, I think it rather endeared me to them. They seemed to believe that if I relied on Hallan, I must be someone of sound judgement.

But while I did my duty in training my archers, I was much more concerned with Mag’s swordfighters. Kun’s test would be combat in the ring, not a test of archery, and we had to pass.

On the third day of our training, Tou came by for inspection. I saw him heading for Mag’s squadron, and I turned to Hallan.

“Hallan, I am going to speak with the lieutenant,” I told him. “If you need me, send someone to fetch me.”

“Yesser,” he said with a nod, and nocked another arrow.

I went running after Tou and reached him just before he reached Mag’s unit. He saw me coming and gave a nod without asking why I was there; I suspect he could guess.

Mag was standing at the edge of a ring, and two men were training in the middle of it. She looked up as Tou and I approached, and she snapped off a salute to him.

“Ser.”

“Sergeant,”