Talla's Fallen Temple Ch. 25

Passwords were exchanged and the gate was opened. They were soon in the open air. It felt refreshing. Zhair'lo had never realized how closed-in the town felt until he'd moved out to Harzen's Farm. From there, he had gone to Lyric's Camp, where they sometimes spent days out in the forests, waiting for prey. The Barracks, by comparison, nearly induced claustrophobia. It seemed to Zhair'lo the place needed to be expanded and soon.

By contrast, the area outside the Palisade was wide open. Better yet, he'd be leaving the boundaries of the city of Gern today, something he'd never done before. The road, that heavily patrolled path that marked the edge of what the Temple claimed for itself, was the farthest he'd been before. There was an entire world out there, made out of Temple Cities and barbarians and nine gods knew what else. Zhair'lo knew he'd only seen a tiny fraction of it.

He also began to realize, as they cut away from the road and entered into the woods on the south side of the city, that exploring that world on foot would take a lot of time. For this route, the Rangers who had gone ahead of them had done a good job of picking a path through the trees. In fact, they probably knew the forests around the city very well, which brought a question to Zhair'lo's mind. When the entire army had to bunch up to fit through a narrowing of the path, he found himself close enough to Sergeant Yung to speak.

"Sergeant?"

"Zhair'lo."

"How did these people manage to build their camp so close to Gern's borders?"

It spoke, to Zhair'lo at least, of a fair degree of stealth. If the Rangers hadn't noticed the camp, it was either well concealed or ... or what?

"We think they only moved in a few days ago," the Sergeant replied. "Possibly they were wandering until Merelda went into labour."

"So they built the camp that quickly?"

Sergeant Yung smirked before he turned away. The army was able to spread out again, ending the conversation before Zhair'lo could get an explanation of what it was that the Sergeant had found so humorous.

When Zhair'lo thought of a 'camp', he pictured the semi-permanent tents, well maintained clearings, roasting pits and campfires that the Hunters had built up. There was no way that such an arrangement could be brought together in the short time that the barbarian tribe must have had available. Still, he couldn't wait to see what they were up against.

It wasn't long before the column came to a halt.

Hera appeared, her grey-green clothing cloaking not just her bright, blond hair but her entire existence up until she felt like showing herself. Zhair'lo heart jumped as he realized how close they must be to the enemy camp.

"They are, as of yet, unaware of our coming," she spoke in that same quiet voice. "From here on, I advise a slower speed. The flanking units should start moving around now. The archers should follow me in."

Ji'ann gave a nod and the group split up.

"Recruits," she said quietly. "Stay behind the archers."

The archers, Zhair'lo soon discovered, were the only units left to see. Sergeant Yung was there, with a few other swordsmen Zhair'lo didn't recognize, but everyone else had disappeared into the forest.

'Madra Zen, they're good,' he thought. He couldn't even hear them.

Following the oversized squad of archers, who were following Hera, Zhair'lo led the rest of the Recruits forward.

At a gesture from Hera, Sergeant Yung and the swordsmen at the head of the squad dropped to the ground and began crawling up a small hill. Behind them, the archers did the same and, without a thought, Zhair'lo followed suit.

Over this hill, then, were the barbarians, the vicious men who kept their swords at hand in order to battle each other on a daily basis. From where he crouched however, there was nothing to see. Too many veteran Fighters were in his way. As he watched however, the female archers were spreading out to take up the entire width of the hill, leaving gaps in their midst. Sergeant Yung and the three swordsmen also spread out across the top of the hill.

Just four swordsmen to screen - Zhair'lo counted - twelve women?

Sergeant Yung turned back to face those downhill from him, his eyes searching. Suddenly, he and Zhair'lo locked their gazes upon each other. Quietly, the Sergeant beckoned him forward.

Zhair'lo creeped, quietly as he could, keeping his head low, to a place on the grass lying next to the Sergeant.

"Sir?" he whispered.

"Let's take a quick peek," he said. "And tell me what you see."

Stunned for a moment, Zhair'lo crawled farther up the slope to its top. With the Sergeant at his side, he caught the first glimpse of the camp of the Temple's enemies.

"Back down!" Yung hissed.

Startled, Zhair'lo ducked his head immediately.

"Tell me what you saw, as best you remember it."

"Squalor," Zhair'lo replied instantly, his eyes wide with shock and his chest cold and empty.

The Sergeant looked at him.

"This is no time for jokes."

"It's not a joke," Zhair'lo shook his head clear. "Well, they're a joke. They've only got one real tent. Everything else is square sheets of canvas with the corners tied to trees. No privacy at all although I guess it keeps the rain out."

The minor members of the tribe must be spending their nights under the relatively poor protection of those canvas sheets. The central tent, a circular affair with a centre post, was the only structure in the entire camp he couldn't see right through.

"Yes," the Sergeant was growing impatient. "They're barbarians. What did you expect? Now, the people. Tell me what you saw of our enemies."

"Dirty," Zhair'lo picked the salient and outstanding factor, "They look weak, disorganized. There are no sentries -"

"Numbers?"

"Fifteen, maybe twenty men," Zhair'lo said. "But they don't appear to have swords on them. If that tent is their armoury, we could wipe them out before half of them could even lay a hand on a weapon."

Hadn't Hera said they walked around with their swords on them at all times? That certainly wasn't the case right now, was it?

"They were carrying swords," the Sergeant corrected.

"What?"

"Very short ones. The only ones they have. Did you see the leader?"

A man with a long beard?

"No."

"If anyone has a decent sword, it'll be him."

"If?" Zhair'lo asked.

"Probably all rusted relics," Yung looked at Zhair'lo carefully. "You look almost disappointed."

"No, I just - uh -"

Yung smirked again, as he had before, and Zhair'lo understood now what he'd meant with that arrogant smile. 'Sword' and 'camp' were words with a particular meaning for someone who'd had the kind of tour of Temple life which had been Zhair'lo's experience. His preconceptions, however, were not necessarily the norm for the rest of the world.

This was the enemy of the Temple? These were his potential allies? These dirty, emaciated specimens of humanity? Why, they'd probably find life under the Temple's rule to be a vast improvement over the crap they lived in.

"This won't even be a battle. They should just give up."

"Ideally, yes, Zhair'lo. We train hard so we win overwhelmingly and quickly."

"What if they were better?"

"Then we might have to starve them out. Hit their resources. Divert their water. Kill off their food supply. Find some way to weaken them."

"But not these ones?"

The Sergeant inhaled very gently.

"Indeed not. Now get back with the Recruits and stay behind those archers."

Instruction time had ended. There was work to be done.

"Yes, sir."

Even as Zhair'lo backed away, Yung and his three swordsmen rose to their feet on the summit of the rise and the archers took up their places crouching a little behind them, their arrows knocked to their bows.

"Hello!" the Sergeant bellowed.

There were panicked female screams followed by more masculine voices shouting out in anger. The women immediately ran away from the source of conflict, scooping up children along the way and taking shelter inside the main tent. Despite having heard Hera's prediction, Zhair'lo was shocked by the utter subservience of the women. How could they just step aside and leave everything for men to handle? Again, it was entirely outside of his experience.

"Where," the Sergeant's arrogant voice cut through all the shouts and screams, "is the man named Chet?"

Zhair'lo was able to watch through the gaps between the archers. There was a sound of canvas being whipped aside and a large, long bearded man appeared from a gap in the fabric of the central tent. Barefoot and shirtless, he wore only a dirty pair of shorts. Brandishing what could only be called a sword if one were generous, he shouted back at Sergeant Yung.

"Who comes into my camp!"

"Are you Chet?" the Sergeant shouted back.

"Damned right I am, and this is my -"

An arrow, released from Ji'ann's bow, went whistling past the Sergeant's shoulder and struck Chet in the centre of his chest. Men shouted, not aggressively but in panic, and another arrow whistled, striking the bearded barbarian leader in the belly.

Chet fell to his knees, an uncomprehending look on his face.

"Merelda sends her greetings," Yung called out.

A third arrow struck the man in the forehead. His life gone from his body, he fell sideways.

The men in the clearing, shocked by the suddenness of their leader's demise, had fallen into silence. Their swords were raised, somewhat vaguely, and they all faced the party of Fighters on the hill. They were not, Zhair'lo noted with a detachment that made him feel like a physician, getting themselves into any kind of formation.

Ji'ann chose this moment to take the horn tied to her belt and give it one long, hard blow.

From the bushes on either side of the camp, more Fighters appeared with their long, shining swords at the ready. Behind them, women stretched their bows.

Sergeant Yung gave the twenty or so men below him a moment to take this all in.

"You're surrounded," he said. "This battle is over. Surrender now and you will not be harmed. Resist and you will die."

The men looked around at each other and Zhair'lo could feel their already pathetic will fading. It was no surprise - to him, to the other Fighters, or probably to the barbarians themselves - when they began dropping their 'swords' to the ground.

The swordsmen on the flanks quickly moved in to surround those dirty fools whom Zhair'lo quickly dubbed 'prisoners'. There was no fight left in them, if there had ever been any. Their weapons were taken aside and they were grouped in a corner of the camp, under one of the large canvas tarps. Enough of Gern's swordsmen kept an eye on them that there was no chance of them escaping - or causing trouble.

"Aloe," Ji'ann ordered quietly. "See to the women."

"Mistress."

So it was Aloe's job to be the soft voice of reason once again? She had worked wonders with Merelda. What was it she would say to these women?

At the Sergeant's beckoning, the Recruits passed the dead body of the barbarian leader and moved into the midst of the camp, between the cordoned off prisoners and the circular tent where the women and children were concealed.

"That," Sergeant Yung intoned, "is how we like our raids to go. Minimal risk. Minimal death. No injuries."

Zhair'lo watched as Aloe stood outside the opening to the tent. Two of the swordsmen were in front of her, carefully pulling back the canvas while holding their swords at the ready.

"What's she going to do, sir?" Renzi asked.

"Talk to the women," Sergeant Yung's tone did not invite further questions.

Aloe went in to the tent and the Sergeant went on discussing the battle

"The key is to present to them a united, organized force. They've never seen anything like us and the initial shock is usually enough to take all the fight out of them."

"Do they ever fight back?" Zhair'lo looked at the sorry lot huddled under the canvas.

"Oh, yes, I'm afraid. I've been in more battles than I can count."

"Why do they bother, though?" Renzi asked. "They haven't a hope of winning."

"They're men," Zia pointed out. "Proud and not very bright."

"Things don't always go well," the Sergeant cut across Zia without correcting her. "And even the most surprised people don't always capitulate. We try to shock them into silence - even if it means killing their leader - keep them confused, then present them with a show of force."

He gave a grand wave to the battlefield.

"But sometimes they choose to fight," he shrugged. "We are ready if they do."

'Far more ready,' Zhair'lo realized, 'than these are.'

He couldn't imagine a squad of Gern's Fighters just standing in their places if they were suddenly set upon. These barbarians were a sad bunch, doing little more than crumpling under pressure. The only good thing that could be said of them was that they had chosen the best course for themselves. Given the quality of their weapons, and whatever training they might have from fighting each other, any resistance they had offered would truly have been useless. Gern needn't have sent even half the Fighters that were present.

Sergeant Yung then took the Recruits on a short tour of the battlefield, showing them in person what they had seen on Hera's maps. He carefully explained the reasoning behind the placement of each of the squads, the way firing lines had been kept open. With the number of bows available, and proper distribution of targets, there would scarcely be a barbarian alive after the first volley of arrows.

Zhair'lo noticed that the Sergeant was being remarkably casual where time was concerned. Fighters were normally all about tight schedules and precision. Yet here they were, with prisoners sitting on the ground, spending maybe a quarter of a bell on a lesson could be easily delivered back at the Barracks.

In the middle of a sentence, Sergeant Yung stopped speaking. His attention had been distracted by movement behind the Recruits. Zhair'lo turned and saw Aloe exiting the tent. They were too far from her to hear what she spoke to Ji'ann, but obviously things were going well: Ji'ann gave an approving nod. The swordsmen held the flaps of the tent back and the women and children began to file out into the open.

They were still frightened, but they weren't the screaming, panicking mess that Zhair'lo had observed less than half a bell ago. The women, he noted, walked carefully with their children in tow. One of the men shouted out a name, but he was quickly silenced with a threat from the swordsmen. Zhair'lo couldn't be sure whether the shouted name had been male or female. Had he been shouting to his 'wife' or one of the children?

Or, like Berel, could he have been shouting to his sister or brother?

The captured women, for their part, basically ignored the men. A group of Fighters made up of equal parts men and women escorted them out of the camp and back along the path that led to the Barracks.

"What will be done with them?" Zhair'lo asked.

"The Temple has ways of ... integrating women from the outside," the Sergeant replied.

"But they've never been upgraded -"

"Don't worry, Zhai."

If the other Recruits were bothered by this, they said nothing. It seemed that they were all still in a state of shock.

Sergeant Yung left them to confer with Ji'ann. Zhair'lo strained his ears, but could barely hear the conversation.

"Take care of them here?" Ji'ann asked.

"Filthy," the Sergeant answered. There was something inaudible and then, " - have to carry them back."

Ji'ann nodded in agreement. "March them back, then? Fix them at home?"

"I think we have enough room," Sergeant Yung was speaking more loudly now.

"Give the orders," Ji'ann said, more formally now. "Let's get back home."

The Sergeant gave a slight bow and turned toward the prisoners.

"Round up!" he called out.

The Fighters scattered about the clearing came to attention and surrounded the prisoners even as the Sergeant came to stand in front of them.

"You men will be escorted back to our Barracks," he said. "You will be permitted to become citizens of Gern if you do as you are told. It will be a far better life than you have here. If you don't wish to comply-", he waved vaguely at Chet's body, "-if you make any attempt to escape you will be executed on the spot."

He let that wash over them. There was barely a twitch. If any of them had an opinion regarding their being separated from the women and children of their tribe, they kept it to themselves.

"Good," the Sergeant added. "Stand up and get moving."