Harbinger’s End: Herald
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The Praetorian
Part 1
The morning air was still and frosty. A caravan of enormous galleasses slowly skimmed the surface of the River Saar, traveling west toward the Alpas Mountains. They were average-sized for their class, which included ships ranging from one hundred and fifty to two hundred tons. The sails were completely furled and there was no visible activity above deck. The gray water reflected the light of an overcast sky, with only a bright patch to indicate the sun’s location. The river was as lifeless as the air. Only the rhythmic motion of the galleass’ oars disrupted its tranquility.
The Saar had spent the last few millennia carving its way eastward from its source in Lake Kristalvas, which was high up in the Alpas range. It snaked through the Alpas foothills and into the rugged terrain of Valandov’s interior. Like the rest of the Federated States, Valandov was covered by a thick, mostly coniferous carpet of trees that seemed to glide by the galleasses. The rolling forested hills climbed as high as three hundred and fifty meters, making the country nearly impassable to anyone not using the Federate’s roads or extensive riverine system. The beauty and serenity of this vast country were deceptive — beyond the paths eked out by humans and the rivers lay great danger.
All along the shoreline, the wildlife was awakening. Movement could be seen at the water’s edge. A faunn appeared from behind a bush and dipped its snout in the water. Suddenly it jerked its head up and listened intently. It watched the first galleass travel upriver, but it was far from shore. Satisfied that it posed no threat, the faunn returned to its drink. It pretended not to notice eight other galleasses pass by.
Soon the forest came alive and animals of every kind ventured out to the shore. Winter was finally retreating, which meant that hibernation season was over. Most of the animals ignored the crafts that moved smoothly along the River Saar.
The galleasses were designed simply, consisting of hundreds of wooden planks that were bolted together along wooden ribs and attached to a keel, with framework that supported three decks and a cargo hold. Since the Federated States couldn’t afford a large navy like the Hansic Alliance or the Dominion of Khadash, it had to resort to the cheapest system of transportation for its rivers. Galleasses were an efficient and inexpensive way to move raw materials and manufactured goods. They also made effective troop carriers. One galleass was big enough to carry two entire platoons — nearly one hundred soldiers, plus supplies and provisions — in addition to the normal crew of seventy-five.
The first people to get up were on the second galleass. One of them was a herald who put a horn to her lips. Her commander laid a restraining hand on her arm. He spoke quietly, and with a measured cadence that betrayed his Teivan heritage.
“Not this morning, Sergeant. I want to enjoy the peace. Wake them personally.”
The sergeant nodded and headed below decks. While she went about her business, her commander alerted the other galleasses by signaling to the captains of the watch. Once that was done, he returned to the bow of his craft. He nodded curtly to the helmsman, who was wrapped tightly in a thick cloak, and inhaled deeply. How he loved these mornings! The crisp air refreshed him. He stood there and gazed at the shoreline, which was a short swim away. The foliage wasn’t as thick in this part of the Federate as it was in the rest of the country because of its altitude and its proximity to the Alpas Mountains. He noticed a faunn taking a drink. It looked up at the galleasses for a moment before returning its attention to the water.
Duncan Milius displayed the hardened expression that was typical of all military commanders. If his visage betrayed a sense of youth, it was because he had achieved his rank faster than anyone ever before. He was of medium height, burly, and had sandy hair that lay flatly on his head. The man wasn’t ugly, though he wasn’t handsome, either. It was fair to say that he would be average looking if not for a scar running the length of his left cheek.
He stretched his cramped muscles and the distinct sound of creaking leather was heard. The Federate States were the only parts of the Commonwealth in which metal armor was prohibited. Steel protection was very expensive, and although the Praetorship could afford to equip all of its troops in such a fashion, they recognized that steel provided poor range of motion in the densely forested country, and good mobility was necessary to combat the constant threat from grimal clans.
The sun broke through the cloud cover and for a moment, its glint reflected off the rank insignia on the soldier’s shoulders: the likeness of two wolvan’s teeth overlapping three chevrons, indicating a commander of a company that was only now beginning to wake up. Above these symbols was the depiction of an attacking vulturn with a bow in its claws and a sword and pike crossed behind it — the crest of Valor’s Keep.
“Captain Milius!” The sergeant approached him. She had put away the horn. “The other companies have reported in, sir. The battalion is awake.” This woman was youthful, short and stocky. She was called Terrel. Not much to look at, mused Duncan, but then his thoughts in this regard dwelt on someone else. He closed his eyes, and his love’s image flashed before him. Long, dark hair framing a milky, oval face… almond-shaped eyes the color of oak… thin, inviting lips… He had memorized every square millimeter of her face, and he could still remember her body’s scent even though weeks had passed since their last meeting. With an inward sigh, he opened his eyes. His reverie had lasted only a second and he found himself matching the sergeant’s gaze again.
Terrel didn’t carry what most people in the service referred to as the “Praetorian Air” but she had passed her training and served her time as a cadet. Duncan studied her for a moment and recalled everything he knew about her. He had seen her type before: loyal, efficient, but not particularly creative. She was certainly no career officer. It was most probable that she would finish a long and honorable tour of duty as a squad leader before returning to Valor’s Keep as a cadet trainer. It wasn’t illustrious, but she filled a need.
Duncan nodded curtly. “Thank you, Sergeant. If I’m not mistaken, meal duty goes to Sergeant Parsons’ squad today.”
“I believe so, sir. I’ll inform them right away.”
Duncan’s stomach grumbled loudly. “You’d better hurry,” he added.
Terrel smiled and headed off.
Stay tuned for the next chapter…
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