Memoirs of a Fallen God

Chapter 19

Six hours later I collapsed onto my bunk a sweaty mess.  Exhausted.  Even though I was no stranger to hard work and long hours, my first day still left me completely drained.  Physically it had been grueling, but it quickly became clear from the constant barrage of questions and instructions that I wasn't just expected to be another body swinging a sharpened piece of metal at the enemy. Any fool can swing a sword, I was told, but our squads were built around teamwork.  Every man had to pull his weight. 

I was expected to keep my eyes open, to pay attention to my squadmates, to listen for anything out of place.  In short, I was expected to think.  It was a type of exhaustion I had little experience with.  It made my brain hurt.  

The three other recruits had quite happily bumped someone else out of a bunk for me; Jeer insisted we spend as much time as possible together.  All the training in the world doesn't mean squat if you're alone against a dozen, he claimed.  Your squadmates were there to make sure that never happened, on or off the battlefield.

"First day's the worst," Spanner assured me as he climbed onto the top bunk of the next bed over.  The wood creaked ominously as he plopped himself down.  I found myself liking Span, but I still didn't envy Tore all that dead weight hanging above him all night.  He'd flatten like a pancake if the wood gave.

Spanner was portly.  There was no getting around it.  There was a pronounced jiggle in every step he took.  Add to that, his sandy brown hair kept drifting into his eyes, and from the way he kept squinting his vision wasn’t anything to brag about.  But for all of that, after a full day’s training he seemed better off than I was.

"Yeah.  Don’t feel bad.  Span almost died his first day," Tore said.

Spanner nodded.  "It's true.  They had to drag me back to the barracks that first night.  I don't even remember it."

"Well, I do.  Not likely to forget it.  Took the four of us an hour to get you back here.  You weigh a ton."

"We were all for dropping him after that," Saintly said as he settled onto the bunk above me.  "What use is some cream puff who can't even make it through a day of training?  Wasn't even a hard day.  Jeer didn't quite see it that way, though.  I remember the next day, Tore and me kept mumbling complaints.  Mean stuff.  Jeer caught some of it."

Saintly's voice went low and rough in imitation of the squad leader.  "That any way to talk about your squadmate, you rats?  You expect him to keep the bleeders off your back when he hears you whining and moaning that he ain't as handsome and fit as you'd like?  Keep your fantasies to yourself, boys.  Sure, he's fat.  But that won't last.  The way I see it, any man with enough heart to work himself cold unconscious is man enough for this squad."

"He was right, too," Span said, yawning.  "About the fat, I mean.  I've lost at least a stone since I've been here. My jerkin almost fits now."

“Well, you've still got plenty to work on,” Tore said.  “A stone ain't much when you're dealing with a mountain.”

Span opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by a sharp voice a few bunks away. "Would you lot shut up?”

I winced at the unexpected harshness--and at the familiar voice.   Cage, the sullen man from the road.

"It's an hour ‘til lights out,” Saintly said.  “We'll talk if we want to."

"Bah, bunch of noisy brats.  This ain’t some god’s damned game,” the man mumbled before ripping up his blanket and slinking off to a bunk as far from our group as possible.  Which wasn’t far; it was a small barracks.

Tore sighed and leaned back.  "Never seen him before.  Another recruit, I guess.  He seemed a pleasant sort."

"That’s Cage,” I said.  “From Delokay, like me.  Met him on the march.  I'm pretty sure they recruited him right out of the dungeons--doesn’t exactly do our district proud.”

"Oh,” said Saintly, grinning.  “And you do?

"Sure,” I said, matching his smile.  “Already joined the best squad the fort has to offer, haven't I?"

Saintly raised an eyebrow and leaned back.  "Well, I’ll give you that.  Not a bad start at all.  No doubt you're only a year or two from infamy."

I furrowed my brow in mock confusion.  “Year or two?  Why would I wait that long?"

“That Cage must be with Cordin’s squad,” Tore said, looking up from his bunk.   “They bunk here too, and they’ve been short a man.  Shifty excuse for a squad, you ask me, but then Cordin’s not much of a squad leader.

“Mean,” Spanner said.

“Mean like a snake,” Saintly added.

“Cage’ll fit right in, then,” I said.

I caught the flash of Tore's fingers moving out of the corner of my eye, followed quickly by a hearty laugh from Span.

"What did he say?” I asked.  “Can he really talk with his fingers like that?"

"Sure he can.  It's easy, really, once you get the hang of it."  His chubby face split wide in a grin.  "And he asked if your homeland produced anything other than shrimp and convicts."

Saintly snickered.

"Ah,” I said.  “And how would I say, 'your mother was a prostitute' with my fingers?”

"Oh, that's simple." He held up his hand and raised his middle finger.

Tore grinned at me.  "And yours as well, Shrimp."

"I turned back to Span.  “Can you teach me how to talk like that?” 

“Sure,” Span said.  His fingers began to dance.  “This one means stop, and this means go, and this means cold…” He continued on with a long stream of words and movements.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Saintly said, holding up his hands.  “Slow down.  His head’ll explode if you keep teaching it to him like that.”  He turned to me.  “That’s why I never learned much more than the basics.  Tore’s too lazy, and Span always goes too fast.  One at a time, Span, ‘til he’s got it down.  Then you can move on.”

“I’ll try to slow it down I guess…”

I held out my fingers in the motions Span had made, one at a time, just as he’d showed them.

“I think we can get through the basics pretty quick.  I’ve always had a good memory.”

Span and Saintly looked at each other, shrugged, and started waggling their fingers.