Jadow and the other sergeants had done their work in Krondor. The men were adept at using the ancientKeshian Legion techniques for making camp each night. Within an hour of the order being given, a tiny fortress was in place, with breastworks, defensive stakes, and removable planks used to get in and out.
Erik was getting to know these men, though he still couldn’t remember every name. He knew many of them would die in the coming war. But Calis and William were doing a nearly perfect job of picking the right men for these special companies. The men before him were tough and self-reliant and, Erik suspected, would be able to live by their own wits for months up in these mountains if the situation required, once they had learned the particulars of mountain living.
Erik considered all the things he knew from living in Ravensburg: the tricks the wind played with sound, the threat of a sudden storm being felt before it was seen, and the dangers of being exposed to such a storm. He had seen more than one traveler dead from spending the night in the cold, only miles from the inn where Erik had grown up.
The wind from the north was cold, for winter was coming quickly. Erik realized that was why he was thinking of the trader they had found when he was ten; the man had tried to shelter under a tree, with his cloak wrapped around him, but in the night the wind had sucked the warmth from his body and killed him as if he had been encased in ice.
They were making their way along a small mountain trail, used for the most part by hunters and a few shepherds, one which ran roughly the same course as the King’s Highway from Krondor to Ylith, but which veered to the northeast about fifty miles from the Prince’s city. Several little hamlets dotted the wayup to another fork, where the road turned west again, eventually leading to Hawk’s Hollow and Questor’s View, while a smaller trail led to the northeast, toward the Teeth of the World and the Dimwood. In the foothills of those great mountains and in the various meadows, valleys, and stretches of the forests existed some of the most dangerous and unknown territory within the boundaries of the Kingdom.
Fate had conspired to keep Kingdom citizens out of those areas, for there were no natural trade routes, little desirable farmland, and few mineral riches to lure men there. Erik had decided, without asking anyone, to take his trainees farther on this march than ever before. He had an instinct that the more the Kingdom knew of the north, the less likely they would be to have unwelcome surprises when the Emerald Queen’s army came.
As if reading his mind, Alfred rode up next to him and said, “Bit far to go for drilling, isn’t it, Erik?”
Erik nodded. He pointed to a pass off in the distance. “Send a squad to scout out that rise so we don’t find a band of Dark Brothers marching over it unexpectedly, and look for tonight’s camp.” He glanced around, then said softly, “Hunting parties tomorrow. Let’s see who knows how to find his own dinner.”
Alfred shivered. “This is a cold place to camp.”
“The farther north we go, the colder it gets.”
Alfred sighed. “Yes, Sergeant Major.”
“Besides,” said Erik, “we’re almost where I want to be.”
“And would you be in the mood to share that tidbit, Sergeant Major?” asked Alfred.
“No,” said Erik.
Corporal Alfred rode off, and Erik suppressed a smile. The old Corporal had served in the garrison at Darkmoor, for Erik’s father, for fifteen years before they met. He was a full twenty years older than Erik’s twenty-two. He had also been an early convert of Erik’s, having been one of the first picked to accompany the levy of men Erik’s half brother sent to the Prince, and he was one of the few survivors of that journey.
Erik had been forced by circumstance to physically beat Alfred three times, the first when Alfred had sighted Erik in an inn in the town of Wilhelmsburg and Alfred had attempted to
Erik was getting to know these men, though he still couldn’t remember every name. He knew many of them would die in the coming war. But Calis and William were doing a nearly perfect job of picking the right men for these special companies. The men before him were tough and self-reliant and, Erik suspected, would be able to live by their own wits for months up in these mountains if the situation required, once they had learned the particulars of mountain living.
Erik considered all the things he knew from living in Ravensburg: the tricks the wind played with sound, the threat of a sudden storm being felt before it was seen, and the dangers of being exposed to such a storm. He had seen more than one traveler dead from spending the night in the cold, only miles from the inn where Erik had grown up.
The wind from the north was cold, for winter was coming quickly. Erik realized that was why he was thinking of the trader they had found when he was ten; the man had tried to shelter under a tree, with his cloak wrapped around him, but in the night the wind had sucked the warmth from his body and killed him as if he had been encased in ice.
They were making their way along a small mountain trail, used for the most part by hunters and a few shepherds, one which ran roughly the same course as the King’s Highway from Krondor to Ylith, but which veered to the northeast about fifty miles from the Prince’s city. Several little hamlets dotted the wayup to another fork, where the road turned west again, eventually leading to Hawk’s Hollow and Questor’s View, while a smaller trail led to the northeast, toward the Teeth of the World and the Dimwood. In the foothills of those great mountains and in the various meadows, valleys, and stretches of the forests existed some of the most dangerous and unknown territory within the boundaries of the Kingdom.
Fate had conspired to keep Kingdom citizens out of those areas, for there were no natural trade routes, little desirable farmland, and few mineral riches to lure men there. Erik had decided, without asking anyone, to take his trainees farther on this march than ever before. He had an instinct that the more the Kingdom knew of the north, the less likely they would be to have unwelcome surprises when the Emerald Queen’s army came.
As if reading his mind, Alfred rode up next to him and said, “Bit far to go for drilling, isn’t it, Erik?”
Erik nodded. He pointed to a pass off in the distance. “Send a squad to scout out that rise so we don’t find a band of Dark Brothers marching over it unexpectedly, and look for tonight’s camp.” He glanced around, then said softly, “Hunting parties tomorrow. Let’s see who knows how to find his own dinner.”
Alfred shivered. “This is a cold place to camp.”
“The farther north we go, the colder it gets.”
Alfred sighed. “Yes, Sergeant Major.”
“Besides,” said Erik, “we’re almost where I want to be.”
“And would you be in the mood to share that tidbit, Sergeant Major?” asked Alfred.
“No,” said Erik.
Corporal Alfred rode off, and Erik suppressed a smile. The old Corporal had served in the garrison at Darkmoor, for Erik’s father, for fifteen years before they met. He was a full twenty years older than Erik’s twenty-two. He had also been an early convert of Erik’s, having been one of the first picked to accompany the levy of men Erik’s half brother sent to the Prince, and he was one of the few survivors of that journey.
Erik had been forced by circumstance to physically beat Alfred three times, the first when Alfred had sighted Erik in an inn in the town of Wilhelmsburg and Alfred had attempted to
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