Firewalker (The Saga of Java Mountainstand Book 1) Read online

  “Ladies, you have been accepted for training as mercenaries. That means you are here to learn how to kill, and not be killed.” Captain Freeholm paused to gauge the effect her words were having on the recruits. “This is going to be the hardest thing you will ever endure. I will tell you here and now, most of you will walk out of those gates and head home before we are half through with you. Half of those who stay will not be passed to the Regulars.” She paused again to look over the group. Every eye in the compound was on her. “We get ten times the number of applicants we need every year. If any of you have the idea that we’re begging for people, think again.”

  She turned and descended to the ground, then walked down the lines of young women, examining each in turn. She shook her head in mock-despair at some, though she didn’t see any who were obviously hopeless. The lieutenants had already weeded out those unfortunate girls.

  Returning to the platform, the captain waited until she was once again the center of everyone’s attention before speaking. “Each of you has been questioned and tested to determine what skills and interests you have. We will, to the best of our abilities and according to our needs, place you where we think you will do the best. Some of you will not like your assignments. If that is the case, you may approach your lieutenant. If she says you must stay where you are, you stay. That, or you head out the gates. Lieutenants!”

  A loud chorus of voices answered, “Yes, Sir!”

  “You have your rosters. Find your people and begin indoctrination.” The captain turned and walked away without a backward glance as her lieutenants began calling names from the rosters.

  * * *

  Lieutenant Lerves read the three names on her roster and called the first. “Joslin Armister!” A girl stepped forward and hurried to her side. “Cindra Ashland!” A second girl quickly joined them. “Java Mountainstand!” Java hurried over to join them. The lieutenant nodded once, tucked her roster under one arm, and said, “Follow me.” She led them to a large, barn-like structure that was filled with shelves and bins.

  In the center of the building, she stopped and turned to survey her new recruits, her long auburn hair drooping below one green eye. She absentmindedly tucked the disobedient strands back as she assessed her girls.

  Joslin Armister, the youngest daughter of an innkeeper in Westerstead, was very tall for a girl in her mid-teens. Easily topping six feet, she had blonde hair, blue eyes, and was flat as a board. The line from her armpits to her shoes was a straight drop, with no hips to add curves to her figure. The lieutenant felt a pang of nostalgia at that. There was a time, long ago, when she hadn’t had hips either.

  Cindra Ashland, a farm girl from the west, was dull. Five feet five inches tall, with undistinguished brown hair, brown eyes, and a budding figure, she was the type of girl no one noticed. It was only the intelligence and drive that burned behind those brown eyes that had earned her a place in the Firewalker’s Quartermaster Corps.

  Java Mountainstand, the daughter of a servant in northern Hiddendell, was short, barely five feet tall. She had an average figure for a fourteen-year-old, with a heart-shaped face and light brown hair. Her most attractive feature, and the most unusual for a girl with dark hair, were her deep blue eyes.

  Nodding to each girl in turn, the lieutenant gently moved them into a side-by-side line, and then addressed them. “Recruits, I am Lieutenant Daria Lerves, Quartermaster of the Firewalkers. If you don’t already know, that means that we see to the company’s supplies and equipment, as well as the billeting arrangements for the troops. You were chosen for this assignment because of your education. Each of you has a good knowledge of figures, and good writing skills.” She paused and let a wry grin twist her lips.

  “Don’t think this is going to be easy on you. You will be expected to learn weapons with the others, as well as the logistics of a company on the move. Providing for three hundred women in the field is not an easy task, and this is one of the most important positions in the company. A lack of planning can lead to a lack of food, medicines, uniforms, or other essentials. A poorly supplied company is a company on the way to defeat. Questions?” She looked at her three newbies critically. They were young, strong, and so very green.

  Cindra cleared her throat and hesitantly raised her hand. “Ma’am? I mean, sir? I don’t think I understand. Are we going to be fighters and clerks?”

  Lieutenant Lerves nodded. “Just so. And if you doubt I’m serious, then consider this: Every member of this company must be able to be called upon in the field. If push comes to shove, you may be manning a sentry post one day, running errands the next, and fighting hand to hand that night. It has happened before. There are no safe positions in a company like this. There aren’t enough of us.”

  Java nodded and raised her hand, waiting for the lieutenant’s nod before speaking. “Sir? Do you mean that brains or brawn isn’t enough? We have to have both? I’ve never been very good in classes.”

  Lieutenant Lerves nodded. That was in Java’s description as well. She hadn’t been a stellar student, though she had learned to read, write, and figure. Being the daughter of Lord Ahern’s butler had given her some opportunities that most servants never had. Looking at all three girls, she tilted her head to the side slightly.

  “There’s no such thing as a stupid merc. The stupid ones who get through training tend to die rather quickly. You girls are in a special category, though. You are going to be trained to think beyond the fight. The fight is there, but you must be able to plan ahead to the next fight, and possibly the one after that. If you see something being used up faster than expected, you have to get more before you run out. This may entail planning as many as five or six battles in advance.”

  Joslin and Cindra echoed Java’s nod of understanding, though Lieutenant Lerves knew they didn’t understand even a tenth of what was ahead for them. “Very well. First, we will see to the placement of your fellow recruits, then to your own comfort. Part of being a good quartermaster is learning to think of others first.” The sour expression on Joslin’s face said volumes, though the girl had the good sense to keep her mouth shut.

  “The Firewalkers have three three-story barracks buildings. Each building is divided into private rooms and two-woman rooms on the top floor, four-woman rooms on the second floor, and an open bay common barracks on the ground floor. All the recruits are housed on the ground floors. The Regulars are housed in the upper floors.” Lieutenant Lerves paused to make sure the girls were listening. “The only privacy in the open bay is provided by fabric screens that form cubicles. Each cubicle holds two beds, one on either side, and there is a clothes-press at the foot of each bed. There is a horsehair mattress rolled and tied at the foot of each rope-spring frame.” Lieutenant Lerves led her charges on a tour of all three barracks as she spoke.

  “Building number one houses the Infantry. There are more ground-pounders than all the rest of us combined. And be careful about calling them that. It can result in you being pounded into the ground.

  “Building number two houses the Cavalry and the overflow from the Infantry. Cavalrywomen tend to be a bit touchy, probably because they spend so much of their time with all that worthless meat between their legs.” She smiled and nodded with satisfaction as all three girls giggled. She thought, Good, I don’t have a prude this time.

  “Building number three is ours. We share it with the Archers and the Scouts. The Quartermasters include more than the clerks and storekeepers. The cooks, farrier, and the leeches are all part of the Quartermaster Corps.” She paused when she saw the look of confusion on Cindra’s face.

  “Sir? What do you mean by leeches?” Cindra had a peculiar look on her face, but the lieutenant’s answer seemed to reassure her.

  “Our healers, both for people and animals. Most of them treat both two and four-footed patients. That is another of your functions, helping the leeches if necessary.” Java looked alarmed, and the lieutenant raised a hand to calm her as she quickly continued. “Not actually treati
ng people or animals, unless you have a talent in that direction. The leeches need special herbs and unguents, and you may be called upon to fetch and carry for them.” Java nodded and seemed to relax.

  “Now, to work. Java, Cindra, here are cards for you to place on each bunk. Joslin, here is the roster of assignments. Each bunk on the lower floor is numbered. I want neatly lettered and numbered cards for each recruit. Once the cards are done, place them per the roster.” Lieutenant Lerves stepped back to let the girls figure out how to carry out her instructions.

  Joslin, having the roster, took charge. “Count out the cards evenly. Then we can all fill them out.” The others nodded and began. Cindra was carefully placing a card in front of each of them, while Java was flipping them out like playing cards. This earned her a scowl from Cindra, but the lieutenant didn’t say anything.

  Once they had finished filling out the cards, they sought out each open bed and placed the cards per the roster. Glances at the lieutenant were answered with nods of encouragement. They saved their own cards for last, remembering the lieutenant’s comment about seeing to everyone else first.

  Lieutenant Lerves nodded and smiled when they were through. “Very good. Now we need to get you dressed.” She led them out of the barracks while she spoke. “Recruits wear a variation of our uniform that identifies them to the Regulars. You will get yours first this time, then hand out uniforms to your comrades. Sizes are too big, and too long. One of the good things about having an all-female company is that just about everyone knows how to sew. Alterations are another of our functions, but only for the officers. Recruits are required to tend to themselves. The Regulars already know how.”

  She led them back to the barn-like building. “This building is simply called Supply. We store everything here from food to boot nails. My office is here, on the second floor, overlooking the compound.” She pointed over her shoulder without looking. Lieutenant Lerves then led the girls to racks of bins and pointed to the labels.

  “These bins hold the recruit uniforms. The approximate size is on the front. Try to give out sizes that are close to the actual measurements of the girls. Too big is best, unless the girl is pudgy. Our training tends to slim down the pudgy, build up the skinny, and harden everyone. Work together to fit each other. Don’t try for a tailor fit yet. You’ll have tonight to tailor your uniforms.” She smiled again. “This is your one luxury. You get to try on a few different sets to find something that fits fairly well. Find five sets each. That’s what you will be issuing.” Again, she stood back and let the girls do for themselves.

  Cindra took the lead, going to a bin that had her size on the front. The shirt was tight across the breast, and she exchanged it for another that was less binding. Java and Joslin helped themselves, and each other, and soon all three were fitted in approximations of their sizes. They showed little bashfulness in front of each other or the lieutenant, which was another advantage of mono-sex company: No boys meant no embarrassment. Or at least not much.

  They had barely finished with their uniforms when the other recruits began filing in. Each girl went to work willingly, measuring their comrades quickly and finding uniforms that came close to fitting. Hours passed, and they were sweating profusely by the time they finished. Fitting ninety women was a wearying task. Java shared a smile with Cindra and Joslin, then stood straight when the lieutenant addressed them.

  “Well done, girls. Now, take your uniforms to your bunks. I’ll show you how you will be expected to fold and store them. There are good reasons for the way we do things, so just do as you are told. Explanations will wait.”

  Lieutenant Lerves lead them back to their barracks and instructed them on how to fold and store their uniforms. Everything went in a specific place in the press, and soon they stood ready for their next task.

  “At the head of your bunks are thirty patches with your billet numbers on them. Tonight, you will sew them on to your uniforms.” She paused to rub the patch on her right breast that bore her name. “This is the only way your stuff can be identified this early in your training.

  “The rest of the day is yours to get to know some of your peers. Remember that there is no hierarchy among recruits. You are all equals. Listen for the bells, they tell you the time. The hour is a number of bells corresponding to the time, the half-hour is a single bell. Supper is at six bells. Retreat is at eight bells, lights out at nine. Between retreat and lights out you are expected to bathe, deliver your soiled uniforms to be cleaned, and lay out fresh uniforms for morning. During your first week, you will be given a little leeway. However, starting eight days from now failure to conform is punishable. And the punishment this early is expulsion.”

  * * *

  Lieutenant Lerves joined her captain and the other lieutenants in the captain’s office. Captain Freeholm looked up as she entered and asked, “How are your babies?”

  The lieutenant shrugged. “They’ll do. Java is the most assertive. Cindra is the most conservative. Joslin seems pretty stable. Nothing unexpected. I’m glad there are three of them this time. Having to let both go last year put me in a tight spot.” Daria poured herself a glass of wine from the carafe by the window. “The only problem I see is that I only need one of them.”

  The captain nodded. “That shouldn’t be a problem. These girls are educated, and educated means well off. I doubt they’ve really faced any major hardships in the past. Hell Week should get rid of at least one of them.” The captain sighed softly and sipped her wine.

  Lieutenant Shair Skyhaven of the Scouts, Lieutenant Maren Kelven of the Archers, Lieutenant Jennin Tahoe of the Cavalry, and Lieutenant Klamath Rivers of the Infantry interjected comments of their own about their recruits, though only Shair had had the chance to get to know her recruits all that well. Only six of the girls had been judged to be scout material.

  Captain Freeholm stretched leisurely and regarded her lieutenants. “Get to bed early. I want you all looking your best when we wake them up two hours before sunrise. I hate Hell Week.” The others laughed at her expression.

  Hell Week was a continuous round of drill and exercise. Long days and short nights simulated the worst field conditions. It was no easier on the staff than it was on the recruits, and the only consolation was that they had all done it a number of times before.

  * * *

  Joslin, Cindra, and Java joined in the general gossip session in the barracks. Getting to know the other recruits was going to be a challenge. Introductions were helped along by the nametags on each bunk.

  Java remembered the lieutenant’s comment about making alterations to her uniforms and busied herself making changes while she talked. Other girls had the same idea, and they formed sewing circles so they could help each other and talk at the same time. They had all gotten through one or two uniforms before six bells and supper.

  Supper was a hearty meal of roast beef, potatoes, carrots and bread. Beer was the main drink, though the recruits were encouraged to drink milk instead. Some of the older girls balked at that, but Java preferred it. She had only had beer once before, and hadn’t liked it.

  After supper, all the recruits returned to their barracks to finish altering their uniforms. Rumors were circulating about the first week of training, and Java was sure they had to be extreme exaggerations.

  Eight bells came sooner than expected, and the communal baths were another new experience for most of the young women. Lights out at nine bells was a rather startling fact. Before the ninth bell had rung, the lanterns had been extinguished.

  Java lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling above her. Whispered conversations filled the barracks as young women ranging from farmers’ daughters to noble bastards contemplated and discussed their situation. Java considered her own situation, and smiled broadly in the dark.

  I did it! Against her father’s will, and the advice of the other servants on Lord Ahern’s estate, she had run away and joined a mercenary company. Let Jallan marry someone else. I was accepted. Let those fools laugh
at me now.

  “Java? Are you asleep?” Java’s cubicle mate, Joslin, whispered.

  “No. I’m too excited,” Java answered in a barely audible whisper.

  “Me too.” Joslin paused. “I’m scared too.”

  “Me too. This isn’t what I expected.” Java bit her lip, a lifelong habit she was trying to stop. “Do you think that the rumors are true? About the first week?”

  “I hope not. But could it really be that bad?”

  “I don’t know. I hope not. This bed is horrible. I don’t know how we’re expected to sleep.” Java wriggled her shoulders, trying to get comfortable.

  “My father says that if you’re tired enough, you can sleep on anything, even jagged rocks.” Joslin rustled as she tried to get comfortable.

  “Maybe so. But I don’t think that I’ll ever be tired enough to sleep here. G’night, Jos. Pleasant dreams.”

  “And to you, Java.”

  Java’s dreams were not pleasant. Equintain, Lord Ahern, and the horrid Jallan filled her mind. Her father’s betrayal, forcing her to marry Jallan hurt the worst. Don’t’ you love me? Her dream-self asked, but his image faded before he could answer. She looked at her mother and begged, Don’t you care? But again, there was no answer. Why doesn’t anyone love me for me?

  CHAPTER 2: HELL WEEK

  Being short is no handicap to a trained warrior. It puts you below most of your opponents’ comfortable striking range, and leaves them vulnerable to an unexpected attack.

  Master Scholar Prince Stavin Zel’Andral, “The Short Warrior’s Guide”

  MORNING CRASHED INTO THE BARRACKS. SERGEANTS and corporals walked through the barracks banging pots and pans, rousting the recruits.

  Java stumbled from her bed and glanced out the window. It was still pitch-black outside.

  “All right, you honey asses, outside!” a sergeant was shouting, and echoes of similar shouts came from the other barracks. Java hurriedly dressed in her uniform and went out to stand in line with the rest.