Chapter 4


“Name?”
“Haluk Risler.”
“Age?”
“Sixteen.”
“Any special skills?”
“Um, I’m decent with a sword and –”
“So that’s a no. Ever been tested for magical abilities?”
“Uh, not that I know of.”
“Okay then. Your tattooing appointment is at 0800 tomorrow morning in building 1A, that’s the brown one over there. At that time, you will also be tested for magical abilities. You are assigned to barracks number 122. Your platoon leader is Lt. Facep. Any questions? Good.” A pause. Drawing breath. “Welcome to the army, Mr. Risler.”

Haluk had questions, about a million of them, but he’d never even had a chance to open his mouth again before he was dismissed. Now, wandering glassy-eyed down the main dirt road that led through General Mesner’s army grounds, Haluk couldn’t believe he was actually, finally here.
To house thirteen thousand men, the encampment of General Mesner was huge. Along the main road, there were the communal kitchens and the dining room – or should he start calling it the mess room from now on? – as well as what must be the tattooing parlor and several other offices. Then there were the food and material storage facilities and the armory, stocked full of swords and helmets, shields and armor. Haluk hadn’t seen many soldiers wearing anything heavier than light leather, and he wondered if better armor was some sort of privilege. Even providing them with only light leather armor, it must be difficult to arm thirteen thousand men.
Haluk took all this in and would have loved to have strolled further down the street to find the stables and pastures for the horses as well as maybe inspect some of the other barracks and tents, but he knew he was expected to report to his own barracks first. It was likely that no one would notice if he reported in one hour late, what with everyone in chaos because of the hassle of checking in all the in-pouring new recruits. Still, Haluk wanted to start out on the right foot here. It was his first day, after all.
“Wait up, Haluk,” a voice called to him from behind. Surprised, Haluk turned around and saw Riko hurrying towards him through the crowd of milling soldiers and confused recruits.
“I was only a few people behind you in line, actually,” Riko panted when he had finally caught up to where Haluk stood waiting. “But I couldn’t get your attention. Anyway, I heard you being assigned to barracks 122.” He grinned broadly. “I guess we’re in luck, ‘cause I got the same assignment.”
“Really?” Haluk allowed himself a small smile. It really was good news, but unlike Riko, he somehow felt that in the army he had to treat everything very seriously. “And your tattooing appointment?”
“0830,” Riko answered as the two friends began to walk again down the street. “So around the same time. They made the appointments at five minute intervals, from what I could hear. So either it doesn’t take very long, or they have multiple mages working on it.”
“Probably a bit of both,” Haluk said. They walked along for a minute in companionable silence. Then – “Have you ever been tested for magical abilities?” Haluk queried, his curiosity finally getting the better of him.
“Yeah, loads of times. I think my great-grandfather or some distant relative of mine was a mage, so the whole family is convinced that the ability will pop back up in some kid sooner or later. We all get tested like once every two years or so.” Riko pulled a disgusted face.
“I’m guessing that means no luck so far?” Haluk prodded.
“Luck? Are you kidding me? Who would want to be a mage?” Riko shook his head vigorously. “No way. Anyway, no such misfortune for my family. Yet. I think my dad is still convinced that the so-called honor will befall us one day. Good mages can tell right away, of course, whether you have the ability or not, but the only ones who come through our town are complete washouts who hardly know what they’re doing. So it actually wouldn’t surprise me if they’ve overlooked someone’s ‘talent.’” Riko made mocking air quotes as he said this. “Hopefully it’s not me, though.” He sighed dramatically.
“Is it always an inherited skill?”
“No, that’s why they test everyone. Although a really good mage can detect magic within someone at any time, the actual ability usually appears during puberty, but some people try to hide it. Some are so afraid that they pretend they are completely normal even though they occasionally set a house on fire or freeze the well or something. Of course, we need all the mages we can get if we want to beat the rebels.”
Haluk sighed in relief. He’d already gone through puberty, so that meant he couldn’t accidently turn into a mage. “So what’s the test like?” he asked, his mind at ease.
“Oh, it’s no big deal,” Riko reassured him. “A mage just puts his hand on your wrist – something about skin contact, I think – or even just looks into your eyes. What’s supposed to happen if a guy has magical abilities, I’m not sure. I guess the mage is supposed to sense it or something. Then again, all the mages I’ve met were complete idiots, so who knows?” He shrugged, clearly not too concerned about how exactly the test worked.
“So you don’t need to do it again?” Haluk asked rather enviously. He didn’t want his time to be wasted by such a useless test. More importantly, he didn’t want a mage, even an army mage, touching him.
“Yeah, I do,” Riko said glumly. “They didn’t believe me when I told them I’d already been tested. I guess a lot of guys try to get out of it by saying they’ve already been tested. Plus, to be fair, I haven’t had the top notch guys looking at me. I mean, the army mages are obviously much better at what they’re doing.”
“So why even ask us if we’ve been tested or not?”
“It’s a formality.”
Haluk thought back to the conversation he’d had with the soldier who was checking him in. He cracked a smile. “Must be.”

Haluk and Riko continued on their way, looking left and right and pointing out different features of the camp to each other. Haluk had had no idea how large General Mesner’s encampment was, although he supposed that as the King’s right hand man, his regiment would of course be the biggest. He remembered having been told by one of his fellow recruits, possibly Kristoph, that Gurder had only eleven thousand men at his command while Alevi and Orso had ten thousand a piece.
Soldiers were walking around purposefully, carrying messages or polishing swords while they walked. Others were sitting around crude tables with logs for seats and playing cards. Very few gave the two new recruits even a glance as they passed.
“By the way, don’t we have to take a left here to get to our barracks?” Haluk asked after a while. The encampment was confusing, and Haluk wasn’t sure anymore if he was properly oriented or not.
Riko gave Haluk a lopsided grin. “I have no idea. I was following you, to tell the truth.”
They stopped and asked a passing soldier for directions. He gave them a slightly disdainful look before telling them to take a right turn here and then just continue straight for a while. They would be able to see their barracks clearly enough when they passed it, he told them. They were all well labeled.
“See, I knew we had to take some sort of turn here,” Haluk said sheepishly. “Just got it a bit mixed up, is all.”
“Right,” Riko smirked. “So, you know anything about this tattooing thing? I haven’t really heard much about it, though of course I’ve seen the things.”
Haluk admitted that he didn’t know much about the tattoos either. He, too, had seen them on soldiers that passed through his village every now and then, but he had never thought to ask. The tattoo was black and simple. It consisted of an elegant S whose tail end looped over to make an oval with a slight edge sticking out. Inside the oval was a diamond-like pupil so that the tail of the S looked like an eye. It was the symbol of King Sergatus, and now that Haluk thought about it, it made sense that every soldier had one tattooed on their arm. It was a question of pride, of belonging.
After a few minutes, Haluk thought to look at the numbers painted on the wooden barracks that they were passing – 134, 135, 136. The numbers were definitely going up.
“I think the soldier sent us the wrong way,” Haluk told his friend, finally laughing despite himself.
“What?” Riko asked, outraged. He didn’t find it funny at all, and he told Haluk to stop laughing while he chose some choice swear words for the soldier who had misdirected them.
Haluk managed to stop laughing long enough to say that he must have been right the first time, when he suggested they turn left. He doubled up all over again as Riko continued to thoroughly cuss the soldier out, attracting the looks of several people nearby. Then Riko caught a sight of Haluk, realized that what he was he was getting himself worked up about was fairly ridiculous, and started laughing as well.
“What are you kids laughing at?” someone suddenly barked at them.
Both boys immediately stopped laughing, turned around, and snapped to attention. Judging by his crisp uniform and golden bars, they were looking at a Colonel, and he wasn’t happy.
“Well?” he asked them again impatiently.
“N-nothing , sir,” Riko stammered. “We were just…” He trailed off nervously.
“Looking for our barracks,” Haluk finished for him. “We’re new.” He wanted to sink down into the earth in embarrassment, but the situation was as it was, and Haluk knew it was no use wishing he weren’t there. Was laughing really such a terrible offense in the army? Would he be kicked out after just one day – not even a full day? Would he be sent to the stocks? Would he have to do demeaning work or – or –
Before his mind could go through any more dreadful scenarios, the Colonel asked, “Number?”
For a second, Haluk didn’t know what the Colonel was talking about, and it seemed that Riko didn’t either. Then it clicked. “122, sir.”
“That way,” the Colonel told them curtly, pointing them in the right direction, back the way they had come from. “And next time, be careful who you ask for advice.” With those words, the Colonel was gone, walking briskly towards the main street. They could just make out his straight, rigid back as he took a left, and then he was gone.
Haluk felt like laughing and crying at the same time, but he did neither. He had been so scared that he would lose everything hardly after he’d gained it. He’d been terrified that he could have messed everything up with one unfortunate moment. It seemed he was in the clear for now, but he could still hear his heart pounding in his ears.
“Man, that was lucky,” Riko declared, wiping imaginary sweat off of his brow.
“Yeah,” Haluk said, much more seriously. He was not a kid anymore, and if he wanted others, like the Colonel, for example, to stop calling him that, he would have to stop behaving like one. Hadn’t he already had a similar experience back while they were still marching, when he had been left behind while others went to hunt down the rebel? When would he learn?
Haluk’s hands curled into fists, and his fingernails bit into his skin. He welcomed the pain, a distraction from his blundering failures. Becoming a proper soldier, let alone an officer, wouldn’t be as easy as Riko had made it sound, especially if everyone kept perceiving him as a child.
No more, he decided. He would do whatever it took to become a real soldier in General Mesner’s army, not some farmer’s kid who didn’t know left from right.


Chapter 5


Lt. Facep was a tall man, brutally handsome and well-muscled from years in the army. His hair was brown and about two inches in length – long enough to be somewhat fashionable but short enough to stay out of his face. Haluk had noticed at once that not many people had long hair in the camp. There was no regulation against it, but most soldiers found it too cumbersome while fighting.
The Lieutenant had sharp eyes, almost black in their coloring. They seemed to be staring right into Haluk’s soul. The man’s narrow mouth was pulled tight in displeasure.
“More recruits?” he asked disdainfully. Haluk wasn’t sure if he was supposed to answer this question or not. Before he could open his mouth, however, the Lieutenant continued, “You know why I hate Xaviel Day?” He started pacing in front of Riko and Haluk, back and forth, back and forth. Behind him, Haluk could see the fifty or so soldiers of barracks 122 watching Lt. Facep with interest. “Because I have to put up with another crowd of idiots who don’t know the tip of a sword from its handle.”
Haluk still didn’t say anything, but he thought this assessment was rather unfair. Maybe not everyone was a perfect soldier when they arrived, but at least some of them knew how to handle weapons, including himself and Riko. Lt. Facep might be bitter about having to train the recruits, but that was part of army life. Without new soldiers to replace those lost in battle, the rebels would outnumber them in no time.
“That’s not true!” Riko burst out angrily even as Haluk was congratulating himself at having kept his temper under control and his mouth shut.
“Really?” Lt. Facep asked, the hint of a smile pulling at his lips and his eyes glinting. Behind him, Haluk saw the other soldiers lean forward in anticipation. “You know how to handle a sword, do you?”
Riko nodded stoutly.
“And your friend here?”
Riko looked briefly at Haluk who was trying desperately to signal to Riko not to get them into any more trouble by talking back. Then Riko said, “Yes, sir.”
The Lieutenant grinned. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true, sir.” Riko refused to give in. He did not like to have his swordsmanship insulted. Neither did Haluk, but inside he was cringing at the mess Riko was getting them into.
“Why don’t you demonstrate?” Lt. Facep replied after a long pause during which Haluk had been able to hear every beat of his heart and every breath that left his lungs. “You and him,” he gestured with his chin to Haluk, “outside, now. Then I will judge if what you say is true.”
The soldiers in the barracks cheered and whooped with excitement. Haluk wondered if he would be able to even make it to the door, his legs were shaking so badly. He didn’t want to fight anyone just yet. It was his first day here – this wasn’t how things were supposed to happen. He should be welcomed into the brotherhood with claps on the shoulder and whispered old war stories at night, not shoved into a fight with his friend moments after he had entered the barracks.
Riko looked like he was about to open his mouth in agreement, but Haluk spoke up first. He did not have the same pride that Riko had. If Riko would not give in, he would. He did not want to be humiliated or injured on his first day as a soldier.
“No thanks, sir,” Haluk told Lt. Facep as calmly as he could, having finally gotten his legs to stop shaking. “I’d rather not.”
“What?” Lt. Facep asked, feigning surprise. “Not scared, are you?” His face suddenly softened into an almost fatherly expression, but his eyes mocked Haluk. When the other soldiers heard, they started booing and catcalling, but Haluk stood firm until –
“I thought you knew how to handle a sword,” Riko said quietly, his eyes challenging. “I guess not.”
“Fine,” Haluk cried out, exasperated. “I’ll do it.” He would not let Riko think him a coward, which his words had clearly implied. He would not let anyone think him a coward.
The soldiers from barracks 122 let out another cheer and surged forward. Riko and Haluk were pulled along with the crowd. Haluk didn’t know where they were going, so he let the jostling bodies around him decide for him. A left, a right, another left. The feet of the many soldiers kicked up a small cloud of dust, and Haluk was reminded of his long march from his hometown of Punur to the Sakran Plains. He had envisioned his welcome into the army quite differently at that time.
The crowd came to a halt before a small fighting ring near the edge of the army’s encampment. Here was where all the training grounds were, and Haluk wished he had more time to inspect his surroundings. He had yearned to be in exactly this spot for so long, but not under these circumstances. Sadly, all he could see over the heads of the surrounding soldiers – the crowd had grown considerably – was a similar fighting ring to the left and right of him. The rest was blocked from view and was, soon enough, driven completely out of Haluk’s mind.
Haluk could see that Riko was already waiting inside the ring, a look of eager anticipation on his face that was matched by every soldier in the crowd around the fenced in area. Then Lt. Facep, who had taken his time strolling down from the barracks, made his way through the press of people and stopped by Haluk’s side.
He put his hand on Haluk’s shoulder, and for a brief moment, Haluk thought he felt the hand squeeze his shoulder reassuringly and the handsome face give him a genuinely encouraging look. Next thing, though, Lt. Facep was shoving him forward into the ring and closing the wooden gate behind him.
“These boys,” Lt. Facep began, having entered the ring behind Haluk and now standing near the two friends, “fancy themselves excellent swordsmen.” The crowd rippled with laughter at this, and a few old veterans shouted out some demeaning comment or another.
“Don’t worry,” the Lieutenant continued. “They will soon be rid of such an illusion. Let us see what they can do with a sword, eh?” Here the soldiers cheered and thrust their fists into the air, leaning forward over the fence. Haluk felt empty inside, but this time it wasn’t fear that haunted the corners of his mind. He was just as excited as any of these soldiers, now that he was in the spotlight. He could not fail – would not fail. Now that he was actually in the ring, he had no desire to be humiliated. He wondered how good Riko actually was with a sword. Had it all been bluffing or did he really know what he was talking about?
“And yet we must respect all our dear new recruits,” Facep said sadly, and Haluk felt hope surge through him. If he did not want to be humiliated and he did not want his friend to be humiliated, then the only solution at this point was for the match to be called off by some higher power. Facep, perhaps, or a Colonel or Major who might happen to be walking by. But Lt. Facep, at least, had no such withdrawal of the contest in mind.
“They cannot kill each other, for every soldier who dies in vain,” he began. The sentence was finished by the soldiers who automatically chanted what came next: “Means ten rebels live another day.” A few chuckles ran through the crowd. Haluk had heard the saying before, too, and it had always filled him with a sort of pride for his country, but it sounded like these soldiers were mocking it.
“Right, so our solution?” The crowd was hanging on to Lt. Facep’s every word, but Haluk had the feeling that they had heard this mockful speech many times before from various officers. “Wooden swords,” Lt. Facep finished and brandished two such swords into the air that a nearby soldier had just passed him. The crowd let out another enthusiastic cheer.
The wooden swords were fair representations of the real thing, Haluk decided as he took the carved stick that was handed to him. It had a lead filling to give it weight, and it was about a meter in length. The edges were dull, but a few splinters stuck out here and there. The handle, in contrast, was smooth from the many nervous hands that had grasped it. Haluk felt his own hands slip into the familiar grooves. His practice sword back on the farm had been a rusty old thing, so the poor balance of the wooden sword didn’t bother him. The weight seemed to be about equal to what he was used to.
Haluk glanced over to where Riko was standing and examining his own sword. Haluk smiled inwardly. Riko had been one of the few who had brought his own sword along, and it was a piece of artwork. He must have saved up for ages to buy such a beauty, or perhaps he had inherited it. Haluk had been jealous many times over when he had first seen it, but he wasn’t anymore. Riko would be unused to such crude and poorly balanced swords as these.
As Lt. Facep told the two friends to stand ten feet apart from each other, one of the veterans in the crowd began calling out the betting odds. Haluk tried not to listen too closely as other soldier gathered around the man and placed their money. He didn’t want to know the odds against him. Riko was the taller boy, after all. Then again, Haluk thought, he himself was more muscular from the years of farm work.
“The battle will commence upon my word,” Lt. Facep told everyone. “It will only stop when I declare a winner. My judgment will not be disputed by any of you. There are no rules.” He paused dramatically and gave a winning smile that each boy felt was directed at him. “Good luck and… Begin!”
The weight of the sword felt good and reassuring under his hands as Haluk circled his friend. Riko mirrored his movement, and with each step, the circle became smaller, spiraling in. Haluk waited, trying to gauge his opponent’s strengths and weaknesses, but having only ever fought a straw sack or the open air, Haluk was unsure what he was supposed to be looking for. An opening in Riko’s defense, of course, but how would he know it when he saw it?
Suddenly, Riko sprang into action. He feigned left and then came at Haluk from the right with an upper hand cut. Haluk moved his blade quickly to block him, his eyes having kept focus on Riko’s eyes. Eyes were always a tell-tale, for while Riko’s body had feigned left, his eyes had remained fixed on his point of attack.
From the upper cut, Riko smoothly transitioned into a lower thrust, aimed at Haluk’s stomach. Haluk sidestepped and got in a swipe of his own, but Riko’s sword met his and blocked the attack. Back and forth the two went, trading blows and dodging attacks. For a few minutes, Haluk would be gaining ground, but just before they reached the fence, Riko would suddenly come at his friend with a flurry of blows that had Haluk backing up now.
They were evenly matched, and through the thunk of wood hitting wood, Haluk could hear the crowd egging them both on. He occasionally caught a few words in the general shouting and cheering, but he tried to block everything else out and concentrate on the fight.
After fifteen minutes, with neither of them showing any signs of tiring, Riko tried a new tact. He combined one move after another into a quick onslaught of blows, and it was all Haluk could do to defend himself. When there was a fraction of a second where Riko paused for breath, Haluk reversed the tactic on his friend. His frenzy seemed to be breaking through Riko’s defenses until –
Thump. Haluk’s wooden sword connected solidly with Riko’s left arm. Riko winced and stumbled a few steps back. Haluk thought it would be over then, that he had won. But when no one said anything, Riko recovered from his shock and caught Haluk unawares. He delivered three quick strikes to the arms and chest of Haluk, who had already been relaxing and bringing down his sword arm.
Haluk reeled back with the force and pain of the hits. This wasn’t how sword practice fights were supposed to go. Then again, Lt. Facep had said that the fight wouldn’t be over until he declared it to be. He had said there were no rules. Haluk spat out a thin trickle of blood angrily and realized that he had bitten his tongue by accident. He was not enjoying the fight anymore.
So it continued. With both teens weakening, their defenses were low and they were able to get more body hits in. Haluk felt sore already in at least ten different places, but he consoled himself with the fact that he had gotten in hits on Riko just as often as his friend had on him. Still, at the frenzied pace with which they were going at each other, more often than not with a complete lack of style, Haluk didn’t think he could last much longer. His perfectly maneuvered blows had turned into some wild swings and swipes of which he was not proud of. The other soldiers were probably laughing their heads off at his poor form.
Sweat rolled down his face, and he had to blink rapidly to get it out of his eyes. Across from him, Riko was panting and preparing himself for another charge.
If Haluk didn’t want to be defeated in the most humiliating way of all – by tripping over his own feet in exhaustion – he would have to end the fight now. But how could he avoid embarrassing his friend or himself? One of them would have to be defeated, and whoever that might be would probably lose face with some of these soldiers.
As Riko came careening tiredly towards him, Haluk drew on his dwindling reserves of energy and set himself right in Riko’s path. Realizing too late what was happening, Riko’s blow came in much softer than planned as he tried to stop but couldn’t. He collided bodily with his friend. Both boys fell to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs.
Haluk, who had been waiting for this exact moment, gathered himself together quicker than Riko could. He rolled on top of Riko, placing one knee on his friend’s chest and the other on his left arm. His sword tip was pointed right at Riko’s throat.
Riko was right handed. Haluk knew that. And he also knew that his friend was still grasping his sword in his right hand, because he had made sure to tumble down to the ground with Riko in an orderly fashion, however it might have appeared to the contrary to the watching crowd.
Riko’s hand was shaking from exhaustion when he lifted it, but it was steady enough when he pointed it at Haluk’s throat. He grinned at Haluk.
“Draw,” he rasped, his voice still sounding rather out of breath. Haluk allowed a tiny smile to flicker briefly across his face.
“Draw,” Lt. Facep echoed as the crowd of watching soldiers burst out in a cacophony of complaints, most having lost their bets.
Haluk rolled off of Riko and sprang lightly to his feet. He then offered a hand to his friend and helped Riko off of the ground as well.
“Not bad,” Riko told him as he dusted dirt off of his tunic. “Sorry for being such a jerk. Didn’t mean to make you out cowardly and all or to doubt your swordsmanship.” He paused, as if embarrassed by what he was about to say. “Thanks for the save. You definitely had me there.”
“No problem. We were evenly matched,” Haluk replied. “Didn’t you hear the betting odds? It was almost fifty-fifty.”
“Almost? Who was it in favor of?”
“You, actually. I guess they thought you had guts and all for the way you handled Lt. Facep while I was trying to back out.”
At that moment, the Lieutenant, who had been going around yelling at his men that there would be no refunds for lost bets, came over to the two boys. He first said a few words to Riko who then grinned again and headed off into the crowd of soldiers. They reached forward and pulled him into the mass, patting him cheerfully on the back and welcoming him as one of their own.
“That Riko kid has the mouth,” Lt. Facep said conversationally as he approached Haluk, “but I think you’ve got the guts. Honor, too. Few people count that as of any worth nowadays, but I do.”
“Honor?” Haluk queried, unsure what else to say to this man who had done a complete turnaround from a hostile commander to a sociable and pleasant friend.
“I saw what you did there, letting your friend save face.”
Haluk kept his face blank, not wanting to admit that he had. “I didn’t do anything.”
Lt. Facep smiled, a genuine smile that reached even his dark eyes and crinkled his skin. “Exactly.”