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Mercenary of Lastia - BtLH - Ch 53
🕑 Added 2024-07-04 08:18:59 +0000 UTCThe morning sun fought to pierce the thin forest canopy as Lys emerged from her tent. She stretched, her muscles stiff.
Around her, the camp was already stirring, the smell of fried potatoes luring recruits to wakefulness without a roll call.
It was already well past dawn, and they hadn’t been roused. That was a hint that it would be a ‘lazy’ day. They weren’t going to be moving out, then.
She made her way to the wounded to check on them, especially the ones from Group One. They were covered in bandages that had been smeared with the moss salve. It was hard to tell if it was having any effect. She wasn’t sure it would help the worst off at all. Some of the recruits groaned in pain, while others lay still, their faces pale and drawn.
One was croaking for water.
“Here, drink this,” Lys said, bringing him a small canteen. The man took it with a shaking hand, nodding his thanks. She took the time to check on each of them one at a time, doing her best to make them comfortable. It wasn’t really her job.
There were a few other recruits assigned to watch over them, but as group leader, she felt like she had a little responsibility to help.
Eventually, she returned to her tent. The others were standing, waiting.
“Training’s canceled today,” Plainfield said, his voice low. “We’re to fortify the camp instead.”
“Aye, and set traps for any more of those damned lizards,” Stormwell added.
Lys nodded to them, rolling up her sleeves. “Let’s get to work then. Get the others up.”
“What about breakfast?” Woodrow asked.
“We’ll eat after the others. I don’t know what it is, but I really just need to get something done already,” Lys replied.
Plainfield shrugged. “S’fine with me.”
The other two nodded, and they split up to rouse the few other uninjured members of Group One.
They spent the day digging trenches and building firebreaks, setting up abattis, and fortifying. Swift inspected their work a few times, but mostly, they were left unsupervised. Lys wiped the sweat from her brow, her hands blistering from the shovel. She took them in for a late breakfast, had them eat jerky for lunch, and then moved for an early dinner.
It was odd for them to be left to determine their own schedule, but she made sure they worked. It was responsibility. The sergeants were the only ones with extensive first-aid and medical knowledge and they focused on tending to the injured.
When she asked, Finn confirmed they wouldn’t be moving until the wounded had mostly recovered. That seemed like it would take weeks, but then he told her it would only be a few more days at most.
She winced, figuring out what that meant.
By the second day, most of the recruits were back on their feet, albeit moving gingerly and with moss salve patches covering them.
She met with the other group leaders, and did a survey of the trenches and firebreaks. They split the camp into quarters, dividing various responsibilities.
The sergeants supervised and advised, but left the work up to them even after they weren’t needed as medics anymore. Hawkins informed her the moss had run out, so she organized a search party and assigned Plainfield to lead it.
A few hours later, Plainfield and his team returned, their sacks bulging with the precious moss. Hawkins set the cauldrons to boiling in preparation, but they turned and sought her out first, faces grim.
“What happened?” Lys asked, hurrying to meet them.
“We spotted something,” Stormwell said, his voice low. “Could’ve been another lizard.”
Lys felt a chill run down her spine. “Did you get a good look at it?”
Plainfield shook his head. “Nah, we didn’t stick around to find out. But it was big, whatever it was.”
Lys pressed for more details, but they had little else to offer. She knew she had to report this to Finn immediately. She had them deliver the moss and help Hawkins while she did so.
She found the sergeant sharpening his sword near the command tent. “Sir, Plainfield’s team spotted something near the moss site. They think it might’ve been another lizard.”
Finn’s hand stilled on the whetstone. “Did they engage it?”
“No, sir. They returned with the moss but didn’t investigate further.”
Finn stood, sheathing his sword. “Double the watch tonight. I want every man on high alert. If that thing was part of a pair, we need to be ready.”
“Yes, sir,” Lys said, already turning to relay the orders. A sense of unease filled her gut. Was there really any way for them to fight off another lizard? No one had mentioned her reckless, insane display of jumping on the first one’s back.
At least, not where she could hear. She’d seen the glances and looks people gave her, though.
She wasn’t sure she could repeat the act—it had just sort of happened without her thinking about it at all.
It had worked out, somehow.
Asking for that to happen again seemed foolish.
But they were trapped, tending to the wounded in the fortified camp. Better behind a series of firebreaks, barriers, and spiked wood than on the open road? The sergeants seemed to think so, and she knew she wasn’t experienced enough to have an opinion on that choice.
The memory of the fiery breath and razor-sharp claws was still fresh in her mind when she meandered into Hawkins, almost colliding with him as he came out of the mess tent.
“Trekhill, get your group on their feet and over here, we have work to do,” he ordered.
Lys blinked. “Sir?”
“Hurry up!” he barked.
She moved to comply and it only took a few minutes to round up the usual suspects. She let the ones who had just returned from the medical tents off the hook, though.
The stench of blood and charred flesh assaulted them as they entered the tent. A large section of carcass was sprawled out on a table behind Sergeant Hawkins.
He turned to look at them expectantly. “The hard work of gutting and skinning this beast is done, but the meat isn’t going to keep any longer and we need to chop it up and cook it now.”
Stormwell’s face twisted. “Lizard chunks… sir? The meat looks… slimy.”
Hawkins fixed him with a stern glare. “Tastes like chicken. What do you think you have been eating? Its lizard stew again, tonight.”
Lys let out a breath. She had been so busy with everything else she hadn’t been paying attention to what they had been eating at all. But that made sense. Waste not… want not? She took up one of the mess knives. “Where do you want us to start, sir?”
Hawkins gestured to the carcass. “I’ll show you how to chop the meat off and then cut it into stew-sized pieces. Watch closely.”
He demonstrated the technique, his knife slicing measured chunks off the raw pink muscle with practiced ease. Lys watched intently, committing the movements to memory.
As they set to work, the tent filled with the sound of chopping and the occasional grunt of effort. Some pieces were loaded with tendons and other ligaments, and Hawkins moved to assist with those. Lys focused on her task, her blade making quick work of the meat.
Plainfield worked beside her, his face pale. “Never thought I’d be cutting up a giant lizard,” he muttered.
Lys shrugged. “Better than being cut up by one.”
The work was messy, but under Hawkins’ watchful eye, they made steady progress. The pile of meat grew, and the carcass slowly diminished.
Finally, they were done. Dinner would be ready soon and all of them needed a rinse.
As the others filed out of the tent, Lys lingered behind. A faint red glow caught her eye, emanating from a cage in the back of the tent. She turned to Hawkins, who was wiping his knife clean.
“Sir, what’s that?” she asked, pointing to the cage.
Hawkins glanced up, his brow furrowed. “That, Trekhill, is a fire lizard core. It’s what powers the beast’s fire breath. Highly valuable.”
Lys stepped closer, peering at the glowing orb. “What will happen to it? And the lizard’s hide?”
“The company will sell the materials later,” Hawkins explained, sheathing his knife. “The proceeds will be sent to the entire company for taking down the beast. Think of it as a pay bonus.”
Lys nodded, but a frown tugged at her lips. “I just wish not so many had gotten burned or beaten by the thing.”
Hawkins grunted in agreement. “Aye, but no one can predict what happens in a mercenary’s life.” He waved his hand towards the tent flap. “Now, off with you.”
Lys ducked out of the tent. Later that evening, she sat around the campfire with the others, spooning the lizard stew into her mouth. The meat was chewy and tasteless. That let the rest of the stew take center stage.
“Not bad,” Stormwell said, shoveling another spoonful into his mouth. “Better than the dry stuff, at least.”
Plainfield nodded in agreement, his bowl already empty.
Lys swallowed another mouthful, savoring the rich broth. She couldn’t help but think of the fire lizard core, glowing in its cage, and wonder what other strange things her new life as a mercenary would bring.
After eating, she had first watch with Stormwell.
The night was alive with the sounds of the forest. Rustling leaves and creaking branches set her nerves on edge. Another lizard was possibly out there still.
She peered into the darkness beyond the flickering light of the campfires, bow at the ready.
Beside her, Stormwell shifted his weight from foot to foot, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “Hear that?” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the wind.
Lys strained her ears, trying to pick out any other sounds. Was that the snap of a twig, or just the wind playing tricks on her mind? She couldn’t be sure.
“Could be anything,” she murmured back, her eyes never leaving the tree line. “Best to stay alert.”
They stood in silence for a while. Every shadow seemed to hold a threat, every rustle of leaves a potential danger.
Suddenly, a loud crack echoed through the night, causing both of them to jump. Lys had an arrow nocked and drawn in an instant, her heart pounding in her chest.
“Over there,” Stormwell hissed, pointing to a dense thicket of bushes.
Lys took a step forward, her bow at the ready. But after a few tense moments, a small rabbit burst from the undergrowth, darting away into the night.
Stormwell let out a shaky laugh. “Guess we’re jumpy tonight, eh?”
Lys lowered her bow, a rueful smile tugging at her lips. “Can’t blame us after what happened with that lizard.”
They resumed their watch, but the false alarm had only heightened their unease.
As the hours dragged on, the watch became exhausting. The adrenaline that had kept her alert was wearing off, replaced by a bone-deep weariness.
She stifled a yawn, blinking rapidly to keep her eyes open. Falling asleep on sentry duty was a serious offense, one that could earn her a lashing, or worse.
“You alright there, Trekhill?” Stormwell asked, his voice low.
“Fine,” she grunted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Just ready for this watch to be over.”
They lapsed into silence again, the only sound the soft crackle of the campfire behind them. Lys’s thoughts drifted to her tent.
Finally, after what felt like an age, she heard the soft footsteps of the dark watch approaching. She turned to see two recruits, their faces shadowed in the dim light.
“Trekhill, Stormwell,” one of them said, nodding in greeting. “We’re here to relieve you.”
Lys felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. “Thank Bunzard,” she said. “All’s been quiet so far. Keep an eye out for any lizards, hey?”
The recruits shared a worried look, then took up their positions as Lys and Stormwell made their way back to the tents. She bid Stormwell a quick goodnight before ducking into her private little sanctuary.
She collapsed onto her bedroll, not even bothering to remove her boots.
Her eyes closed almost immediately, exhaustion claiming her. As she drifted off, she sent a silent prayer of thanks to Bunzard that she hadn’t drawn the dark watch.
Sleep claimed her quickly, the events of the day fading away as she slipped into a dreamless slumber.
The days crawled by, each one blurring into the next as the camp settled into a routine of recovery and preparation.
Lys found herself constantly on the move, tending to the wounded, fortifying defenses, and assisting with various tasks around the camp.
She watched as the injured recruits slowly regained their strength, their burns and wounds healing under the constant application of the moss salve.
The majority were back on their feet within a day or two, while others remained confined to their bedrolls, their injuries too severe to allow for much movement.
Lys overheard snippets of conversation between the sergeants, their voices low and urgent as they discussed the best course of action. It became clear that they had decided to extend their stay, allowing the wounded more time to recover before attempting the march to Tradow.
“Four more days,” Finn said, his voice carrying across the camp. “We’ll give the injured a chance to heal up as much as possible before we move out.”
Lys nodded to herself, relieved at the decision. She knew that attempting to transport the severely wounded now would only make their conditions worse. The extra time would give them a fighting chance. The threat of another lizard dwindled as it never materialized except in the recruits’ fears.
Of the worst off, over half didn’t make it to the third day. There was a quiet ceremony as they were placed on pyres and offered to the sky.
On the fourth day, Lys was summoned to the command tent. She found Finn and Swift inside, their faces grim.
“Trekhill,” Finn said, gesturing for her to enter. “We’re down to two major wounded. The rest have recovered enough to march.”
Lys felt a surge of relief at the news, but it was tempered by the knowledge that two of her comrades were still in dire straits.
“I need you to prepare a cart for the injured,” Swift said, his voice gruff. “Gather as much bedding material as you can and set up the wagon’s back top to protect them from the elements.”
“Yes, sir,” Lys said, already mentally cataloging the supplies she would need.
She spent the next few hours scouring the camp for blankets, pillows, and anything else that could be used to make the wounded more comfortable.
She enlisted the help of a few other recruits, and together they transformed the wagon into a makeshift ambulance, complete with a canopy to shield the injured from the sun and other elements.
As she worked, Lys couldn’t help but feel a sense of trepidation about the journey ahead. It was still another two days of march to Tradow. The road to Dragonblanc wasn’t as smooth as expected.
But at least they were back to moving toward their goal. Hopefully nothing else would waylay them...
Comments
JHD
Thanks for the chapter.
Jonathan Wint
And Lys dropped a Flag!
