A Flight of Ravens by John Conroe (books to improve english .TXT) 📕

They only let us sleep a few hours a day while we ran raids, infiltration exercises, and mock battles.  Suddenly, right in the middle of our biggest battle, instructors just popped up and started to pull us away, one at a time.  Finally, it was just you and me, right, Ash?  We kept fighting for another hour or so, getting our asses kicked, but suddenly the instructors called the battle and led us away.

“We thought we were getting kicked out, that we had screwed up by getting beat down by so many opposing force members.  They led us through the forest, to a part of Despair that we’d never been allowed into before.  It was a section of woods behind the instructors’ quarters, a grove of thick, old oak trees.  Right in the middle was a clearing, maybe ten or twelve spans across, with a huge fire circle of standing boulders, each half a ton.  Twelve boulders spread about four spans apart.  Huge bonfire in the middle, flames reaching five or six spans high.”

Ash was still chewing rolls, but his jaw was moving slower and drool was stringing down onto his furry chest.  His red eyes were fixed on me, slowly blinking every so often.

“Around the fire pit were twelve big chairs, each with an active duty RRS trooper or officer in them, set like the hours on a clock.  Our instructors led us into the clearing and that’s when I saw the other members of our class, each standing in a space between the chairs.  There were only twelve of us left, the survivors from a starting class of fifty-five men and women.  You and I were the last to arrive. Right, buddy?”

Ash was slumping now, and he shifted just slightly at the question.

“Then the person sitting in the twelve o’clock seat, a corporal I think, wasn’t it, Ash?”

He blinked a little but didn’t move.

“Anyway, even though there were officers there, whoever sat in the number twelve seat ran the show, and this gal started to explain that the hour was late and the time had come.  The time for us to take up the uniform of the Squadron.  And just like that, she graduated us and the active troopers to our left turned and pinned the crossed short sword emblems on our field dress.”

Ash was fully collapsed, head against his chest, which moved with each deep breath, his eyes closed tight.

I looked at Jella for confirmation.  “Out like he’s been poleaxed.  I don’t know if it was the horse drugs or the story.  I almost passed out myself at that snoozer,” she said.

I ignored her and stepped forward lightly.  Using two thick strands of silk rope, woven from the webs of Mandrigan trap spiders, I tied up his big wrists and ankles, binding him tight.

Jella had gone to the warehouse door while I secured him and let in a wagon and horse driven by Drew. Cort and Urso ran over to me and the three of us hauled the dead weight of our woldling comrade up and onto the wagon bed, where Drew wrapped him in a sheet of dark canvas.

It was done quietly and efficiently, and then the three of them rode the loaded wagon out while Jella and I relocked the door and cleaned up the scene.

The leftover meat scraps and rolls went into a bag, as did the remains of the drugged poultice, although I handled that with thick gloves on.  Getting him out of the warehouse unconscious was the only way we could come up with that wouldn’t attract too much attention.  Using his wife’s scent to cover the drug was Soshi’s idea.  Woldlings have a good sense of smell, but not being born with it makes it easier to fool them then it would be with a big cat, wolf, or bear.

With the scene cleansed, we climbed back out through the roof, pushed the slightly broken vent cover back into place, and exfiltrated my family’s property, slipping silently into the foggy night.

Chapter 11

I was exhausted as I reported to the castle, but as I had learned back in Despair, exhaustion was just another obstacle to be put aside, like pain, fear, and discomfort.  Still, the sun wasn’t far from coming up when I was shown into the king’s council room, a different room than his personal audience chamber where Kiven and I had reported.

This one was much bigger, with a large meeting table, currently occupied by the king’s council, or at least most of it.

King Helat was at the head of the table, of course, with Brona at his right side.  The lord marshal sat on his left, with General Ewald, head of the Montshire military next to him.  Neil Slinch sat next to the general, with Lord Bottis Grantell next.  On Brona’s right was Colonel Erser, Bishop Miller, my father, and at the end of the table was Carson Mackmore, minister of commerce.

I had forgotten that dear old dad had taken up one of the High Family seats when Lord Dorian Hatch was suddenly removed following the Harvest Ball costume party.  The Families always hold two of the council seats, rotating the position among the heads of house.  Obviously, King Helat’s opinion of the selection held significant sway.

“Well?” King Helat greeted me.

“The situation is resolved,” I said.

“You can speak plainly, Captain,” the king said, waving a hand.  “The council is up to date on the matter.”

I took a breath as I considered my words.  Just because the council members were aware of Ash didn’t mean I could be free with information.

“We have him in safe custody, his wound treated.  He is definitely Ash Newberry.”

“Where?  Where do you have him?” my father demanded.

“He’s in a safe location, under careful guard,” I said. “He’s currently sedated, but as soon as he comes out of it, we’ll start debriefing him.”

“What?” Lord Grantell asked, aghast.  “He’s a woldling, man.  You can’t communicate with them!”

I ignored him, keeping my eyes on the king and Brona.