I still find it quite amazing that we survive in this ‘Military’ business at all…

A case in point, which not only highlights the reasoning behind this statement but also

conveniently falls into the timeline of the tale you now hold in your hands, happened

within the first week of my induction into the Legion itself…

The first few days had gone by quietly, with each of the new recruits acclimating in their

own way to the life that was now being forced upon them. Once more I gave thanks to

the skills and habits that had been ingrained in me by both Folda and my father, for

seeing the looks of some after the physical training left me in no doubt that the

unprepared were suffering…

As a matter of fact, I do believe one of the new trainees died in that first month,

unfortunate, but not unexpected.

Each reacted to the stresses in their own way, and the boys who formed the remainder of

my squad were no exception.

Nico of Leyon (another who, like me, sought the position of a ‘twenty year man’) fell

into the habits that were expected of a Legionnaire, seeking to master the simple day to

day tasks as quickly as possible. (As a matter of fact, it was Nico that was most similar

in mindset to myself, and it was not long before a friendly competition developed

between us both)

Grunth of Callon (an aptly named fellow who almost delighted in intimidating the less

confidant members of our company) seemed keen to develop his reputation at anyones’

cost. We were not long into our initial training before there were rumours of him using

his strength to dominate the weaker types around him, but I was obviously spared seeing

this side of the man. Mind, he did seem much quieter in the days preceding our first

excursion into the forests around Coranan, but far be it for me to question such things.

Mayhaps he just had a change of heart, hmmm?

The last member of our merry band was the vagabond, Sylud of Maladon. A street

urchin who had obviously had his deeds catch up with him, he still seemed a nice enough

fellow, even if you felt the need to hide your coin pouch before approaching. He had that

demeanour, the look of someone constantly trying to work his way around the rules

rather than follow them. If he had only utilised that imaginative creativity in making the

most of his time in the Legion, rather than the myriad of schemes and fabrications his

name was attributed to, who knows how far he could have gone…?

I am sure he would insist that he was being unfairly judged, and mayhaps this is true, as

all the others who were brought out bound that day insisted that they were also innocent.

If they all knew a magistrate who preferred to drape his favourites in little iron chains

with matching bracelets, who am I to judge?

It did not take long for us to develop rapport, even if it was only for survival’s sake.

Grunth and Sylud had apparently worked together on other schemes before, and had

obviously found that their skills complemented one another. Nico and I, however, soon

figured that our similarities were our strong point, and we soon learned to exploit these

strengths to our own advantage.

It was not long after that when we set off, ostensibly to begin the first of our actual

‘training sessions’. We wandered along the Esuron Road, leaving the city walls behind

us as we moved into the wooded terrain ahead. We had gone no more than a few hours

before the sergeant, a man by the name of Ferian of Gelak, turned the company and

began directing us into the forest itself.

Thus began the most fatiguing 3 days of my career, taking rotating turns with the rest of

the squads as we hacked our way through the foliage; hard, brutal work undertaken by

those with bodies as yet unsuited to the task. Each night we stopped early, and one squad

took guard while the rest set to building the skirmish fortifications that the Company

would use for the night. Looking back now, I laugh.

Many times would the discipline of standing to at dawn and dusk, as well as the setting of

defences before encamping, save my life, but back then I was close to cursing all the

Gods in creation for consigning me to that torment. It was almost with relief that I found

myself awoken with the news that one of our Company (yet another of the innocents who

had been dragged forward in chains) had flown, taking his chance in the wilds rather than

endure another day in the Republic’s service.

Senior Legionnaire Polus was assigned the duty of bringing the renegade back, and our

squad was chosen to accompany him, to learn not only some of the survival and tracking

skills that we would need on campaign, but also as a lesson for the less… ‘Stalwart’ in

our midst.

This brings me back to the point at the start of this chapter, for in retrospect, it was one of

the strangest events of my life…Here we were, four untrained boys and one veteran,

wandering off into the trees to bring back a ‘lost lamb’.

Having already faced the Gargun back at the mines of Rayesha, I was not totally assured

of our invulnerability, but Polus took it all in stride and, for the next 2 and a half days, led

us along the boys trail. (As if the constant stream of discarded gear were not a clue in

itself.) It was all to come to a head that third morning, as we rose to meet the sun

according to our instructions.

A roar, followed by a blood curdling scream was the only indication of the carnage being

wrought just over the ridge from our campsite and, following the Polus’ lead, we all

grabbed our weapons and set to at a trot.

Never have I seen as huge a creature as that bear appeared through my boys’ eyes. It had

paws the size of my helm, and claws and teeth of a size to make my dagger seem

insignificant. Rising onto its’ back legs, it let loose a roar that shook the very teeth in my

skull, it’s towering bulk blotting the light that seeped into the small glen, then it charged.

Looking down that blood-flecked maw, I was mesmerised by the destructive power

embodied by the creature before me, and knew that my time was over. Though I was

able to handle a sword without dropping it, 2000 lbs. of angry ursine was not about to be

dissuaded by my little metal stick. Nor were the skills imparted to me by Folda going to

help me do any more than delay it for the few seconds it needed to tear me asunder.

I would later be told that Polus had ordered a retreat, though for the life of me I have no

remembrance of it. The litany of the Lady of Paladins settled into my mind, bringing

with it a cool, calming effect, and moving as if in slow motion, I set to receive the bears

charge. The rest is a blur of scattered images.

Polus drawing his sword as he stepped forward, dragging me back by the cuirass as he

came…The warm spatter of blood that showered from the paw as it tore through his

Kurbul breastplate…The meaty thump as my spear point drove into the bear’s flesh…

After that, silence…

When it was finally all over, there was nothing but a pair of dead bodies, four bewildered

recruits, and a set of paw prints in the mud where the bear had run off…

The days to follow were a trial to say the least.

After deciding to move out as soon as was feasible, we buried Polus and the boy under a

cairn of stones, and then washed at the little stream nearby. Even as I whispered the few

blessings of the Lady that I knew over the grave, I was not convinced that the small pile

of stone was going to offer much resistance to a truly determined scavenger. What

seemed important was that we had made the effort, and the threat of the lurking bear was

always a felt, if unseen presence.

That bear followed us, dogging our trail for over two thirds of our return trip. Apart from

the occasional snort or snuffle from the underbrush, it stalked us in silence, striking only

when it thought it had the advantage.

Most of the attacks seemed only to be tests of our resolve, but two were definitely in

earnest. The first of these came on the first night, during the third watch held by Nico. I

had just settled in after doing my turn at sentry, and was trying to salvage what rest I

could when the night was shattered by the screams of ‘bear!’ and the surprised growl

from out in the darkness.

Not one to sleep in his armour, I reacted by grabbing my nearest weapon (a spear) and

moved onto the defensive, leaping up while bringing said spear into play. Even now I

wince when I remember it, for I had completely forgotten the small lean-tos’ we had built

for cover, and suddenly found myself surrounded in the matchstick remnants of my

shelter. Fortunately for me, the bear was busy trying to tear its way through Grunth, and

was to be driven off by the combined efforts of the squad.

Even so, it was to be a cold, wet night huddled under the stars, with no more sleep to be

had by any…

We moved on the following morning, making good time even though we were not fully

sure of our destination. Polus’ last words of ‘Head to the rising sun’ at least gave us a

general direction, and the presence of our night-time caller ensured we kept going that

way with alacrity. It did not take long for the ‘rot’ to set in though, with both Grunth and

Sylud initially refusing to stand to at the dawn watch. Fortunately the continued presence

of the bear, as well as our safe return to the Legion would bring them back into the fold…

“What!” I hear you cry, “…you made it back? You have just ruined the whole tale!”

Not necessarily, my friends, for you can already see by the fact you hold this tome in

your grasp that I survived to tell the tale, and the story of the ‘adventuring recruits’ was

not to drag on much longer…

Late into that morning it was noted that our new nemesis had decided to forgo stealth,

and was now blatantly wandering up the trail behind us. It did not take long for us to

decide that a stand had to be made, and we searched for the best position to do

so…Unfortunately for us ‘the best’ was to be a relative term.

Using a slight rise in the ground as our backdrop, we faced our adversary, awaiting the

inevitable roar and charge that had constituted his assaults before. This time, however,

it’s intimidation managed to cause one of my fellows to break and run, and the beast set

off in hot pursuit.

I must admit to myself, I was amazed. For the first time since joining, we actually

worked as a squad, moving to protect a team-mate while acting as a unit. With spears

and shields raised, we moved to block its attack, then turned upon it all our built up

frustrations from the previous few days. The Gods were with us, for the creature that we

faced had already proven it was fully capable of rending each of us apart with but a single

blow, yet the worst we suffered was one battered shield.

Suffice it to say we dined well both that night and the following, while the day after that

was witness to four very relieved boys stumbling into the perimeter of the encampment

with stories to tell, and a few grisly souvenirs in addition.

“Not bad…” I can hear you say, “…you survived, and you gained a tale you could parley

into a few drinks at the tavern…”

True, but beyond mere personal gratification, what did it achieve?

I can not help but think, as I look upon the souvenir I had fashioned from the bear’s teeth,

just how much difference a little more training could have made. Certainly it gave us an

insight into the reality of combat, but at the cost of a veteran soldier that may have

someday made an important contribution to Tharda in his future years.

It would be hard work to reach the level of skill that someone like Polus had possessed,

but I swore at that time never to let my lack of skill be the weak point in the chain of our

survival, ‘our’ being Squad, Company or Country...

And with my determination, and Laranis’ grace, I never shall…

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Next Story.

Written By: Shane Saunders (aka. Lothar of Barkus)