Conflict and Courage Read online

  “Its no harder than breaking the ground for planting on my father’s farm,” interjected Duguld, “and I think I’d much rather be here than there.”

  Emily looked at her year-mate, they were much of an age and had both been listed as members of the sub-section that held the oldest junior cadets. An active type, academic pursuits, apart from music, bored Duguld to the marrow and he had been most disgruntled to hear that junior cadets would be required to attend the general curricula classes required by law.

  When asked, Francis had been adamant.

  “I don’t want to lead groups of ignoramuses into battle,” he informed the cadet delegation in no uncertain terms, “do not come to me complaining about this again.”

  And that was that. In Vadath the educational exams may have been suspended up until now but that was going to stop. The juniors would be required to work as hard at their academic lessons as they did at weaponscraft and teachers were on hand to ensure that they did. The cadets would share all classes, except those relating specifically to the Vada, with unpaired children under the age of sixteen.

  Emily was more than happy with this. She hoped to be selected for Holad training when she passed out of junior cadetship. A study programme had been prepared by Laura and young Doctor James for such pairs, merging the needs of fight training with that of their medical studies. As trained medics it was foreseen that they would patrol and fight with the Vada troops or Ryzcks as they were becoming known.

  “What have we got first day?” she asked trying to see over the heads of those taller and bulkier than she.

  “Dismounted arms practice,” Brian informed her, “then riding, then general lessons. A break for lunch, thank goodness a free period, then first aid followed by mounted arms practice for those passed out of the riding class. Chore duties are in addition to this. They intend that we are kept busy. Weaponsecond Ross did say that riding practice is only temporary though. Once Geraldine and Jsei have pronounced us competent, that becomes a free period as well.”

  “Are you sure you want to enter the Holad?” asked Duguld of Emily. “Look at their timetable, only two free periods a week. You must be mad.”

  “I’m sure,” answered Emily with conviction. “If you had seen what Ilyei and I saw on the battlefield.” Her eyes grew distant with remembered horror.

  “I was considered too young to man the settlement walls,” said Duguld.

  “So was I, so was Tara and Thomas too.” Her eyes filled with tears. The trauma she had suffered from Thomas and Stasya’s deaths was taking a long time to heal. “Still,” she added with a small smile, “many of us lost loved ones. We are here to make sure it doesn’t happen again, right?”

  “You should pass out of the riding class pretty well immediately,” said Duguld to both Brian and Emily with whom he was forming a close friendship. “What’s the small notice at the top?”

  “Geraldine is giving a lecture tonight after tea about riding,” Brian answered with a grin, “every single cadet is requested to attend.”

  “Requested?”

  “I think that translates as ‘ordered’,” observed Emily with some humour.

  “Bang goes my ride beside the river then,” groaned Duguld, “I was going to practice.” By common consent, Duguld practiced his trumpet well away from the stronghold proper.

  * * * * *

  The hall where the lecture took place was full to capacity and not only with the cadets; even Susa Francis was there.

  “With and without the harness,” Geraldine informed her audience, “you must be able to stick on like glue.”

  “Can’t we hold on to the straps?” asked a voice from the back.

  “What happens if an enemy with a sword or sharp knife cuts them? Are you going to say, ‘excuse me while I fix it’? I think not, unless you wish to die very young.”

  That got everyone’s full attention.

  “In my classes, you will learn to dismount and mount, first when standing still, then when your Lind is moving, eventually at full gallop. In a battle situation the fighting won’t stop while your partner comes to a gentle halt and you take the time to mount. He or she may be fighting at the time, trying to keep the Larg away from you. A vadeln-pair dismounted is at his most vulnerable. The Larg, as many of you know well, especially those who fought during the battle, are heavier, bulkier and taller than the Lind. You have to be able to remount no matter what is happening around you.”

  Yvonne and Brenda, a duo of senior cadets and who were more indolent by nature than many of the others, looked very blue at this and they were not the only ones.

  “It will come with practice,” Geraldine announced with a bright smile, a smile that only a few of her listeners returned.

  It looked like Vada training was going to be very hard work.

  * * * * *

  Francis McAllister and Jim Cranston were standing outside enjoying the cool breeze. Francis was thinking about the way his life had turned upside down during the past year and a half. From being the worst troublemaker in the Argyll’s crew and the thorn in every warrant officer’s side, Francis had become one of the most respected men on Rybak. As Susa of the Vada, he had led both the vadeln-pairs and the Lind of the Lindars to victory over the Larg, now he had a wife and their first child was on the way.

  “When did I change?” he asked, half to himself. “I suppose it began when the children were kidnapped, but I was already halfway there and pairing with Asya completed the process.”

  It was at this point that Asya herself padded towards him.

  Thus recollected to his duties as Vada Susa, he came to himself. The arrival of some new recruits was imminent and one of these was posing, not just him, cause for concern.

  : They come : she told him.

  : How many today? :

  : Three. Geraldine is not happy but Jsei is not troubled because Dahlya says he a good man underneath : Francis grunted as he started his walk to the courtyard to greet them, Asya at his heels.

  Jim was beginning to get an inkling of who was coming. He decided to tag along.

  “The ex-con is it?” he enquired, “I wondered when he would arrive. It was bound to happen some time you know. Bet this pairing stirred things up a bit.”

  “It seems that Dahlya cut him out of the work-gang. I’ve had outraged messages ad nauseam from the Councillors, not Robert Lutterell I may add and the Lind can’t understand what the problem is. They have respected Dahlya’s right to choose her life-mate and expect us to do the same. I don’t have a problem, but some of the Vada have, well, expressed their displeasure.”

  “You do seem to be in a tickle about it,” agreed Jim. “Larya says that Geraldine is upset?”

  “Many that lost friends and family in the battle are angry. I’ve nothing personally against the man. I was no angel in my early days, as you well know. If I hadn’t joined Spacefleet goodness knows I might have ended up on the Electra too. I say this man deserves the chance.”

  “He specifically asked not to be repatriated south did he not? That should tell us something.”

  “True.”

  “And he was with one of the low security risk work-gangs?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then my advice to you is to take the man as you find him.”

  Robert Lutterell had not known how to deal with the convict Richard and the Lind Dahlya’s pairing and the subsequent upset it had caused amongst the settlers. He had sent the pair off to Vadath with a great deal of relief, ordering that any other similar duos be despatched to the stronghold without delay.

  “I only wish they hadn’t chosen this day to arrive,” said Francis. “Swordsmanship lessons for the junior cadets begin today with Wilhelm.”

  These cadets were in a ferment of excitement, their Lind in a not much better state. Some were so excited that they could barely force down any breakfast, much to the amusement of their elders.

  From their superior position as seniors, these august personages watched their juniors�
�� antics with amusement, tinged with hidden glee, their first lesson had taken place the previous afternoon so they had a fair idea of what was about to happen. They bit back their grins as they listened to the juniors making their plans.

  “I’m taking the sword my father gave me,” announced one boy and, not to be outdone, the rest began to scramble for a weapon of their own, one enterprising lad going as far as to sneak into the cookhouse and purloin one of the big kitchen knives, much to the chagrin of the chief cook. (Incidentally, the lad received three days cookhouse fatigues as punishment for his misdemeanour and no cadet ever tried to ‘borrow’ anything even remotely belonging to the cookhouse again).

  Advised of their plans, Wilhelm Dahlstrom was ready for them and stood grinning at the entrance to the practice field, a large box at his side, wherein they were politely requested to deposit their assorted bits of armour and weaponry.

  “All this is confiscated for the time being,” he announced. “You will be practising with wooden practice swords until I say you are ready.”

  There was dismay and disappointment amongst the youngsters as they placed their ‘weapons’ in the box.

  “You will begin work with these swords,” Wilhelm indicated the untidy pile with a wave of his right hand, “and it will be many weeks before you are ready to try with anything more lethal than wood.”

  He drove his point home, picking up the aforementioned father’s sword and regarding it through narrowed eyes, “such weapons are dangerous. They are made to kill,” he glanced at the kitchen knife being laid on top of the pile, chuckled and added, “at least some of them are. One wrong move and you might well kill your friends with it.”

  He stared at the lads.

  “You want that?”

  “No.”

  “No what?”

  “No Sir,” they shouted in unison.

  “Weaponsmaster is the correct address.”

  “No Weaponsmaster,” they shouted.

  “On these practice grounds I am in charge of all students, young and old. You will never disobey me. If you do, I will become your worst nightmare. Do you understand?”

  “Yes Weaponsmaster,” echoed throughout the field.

  When they saw the Weaponsmaster later putting the adults through their paces, a group that included Susa Francis, even the most doubtful began to regard him with awe and not a little apprehension. For a small man he could certainly make his presence felt. “Fighting is hard,” Wilhelm continued. “Kill or be killed. I am here to make sure that you and your Lind have the best chance possible to survive. Now pick up a practice sword each and form a large circle around me.”

  After an hour’s practice, Geraldine and Jsei arrived to put them through their paces with a riding lesson then they had general studies with the resident stronghold teacher.

  By lunchtime, they were tired, very sore and part of the glory of joining the Vada had dissipated and there was still the afternoon’s lessons to go.

  * * * * *

  Wilhelm Dahlstrom’s son Eitel was finding time lying heavy on his hands. When at the farm, he had been kept busy every minute of the daylight hours, here at the stronghold he had no set chores apart from helping his mother and attending the statutory lessons. He watched the junior cadets brush with the authority that was his father for a while and then went exploring. The boys and girls were undergoing the most basic stroke-practice and his father had taught him the moves years before.

  He wandered aimlessly away from the practice field and headed in the general direction of the river. At the bank he sat down and watched the ripples of water bubble past. Pilli fish darted around in the water; he gazed at them for a time but the sun was hot and he began to feel sleepy, before long Eitel was deep in dreamland.

  The Lind female Jilya couldn’t believe her luck. One of a group of unattached young adults from green-striped pack Matvei who had arrived some days previously, on the hunt for a suitable human with whom to pair, she had not especially noticed Eitel before.

  She was looking for a comfortable spot on which to rest. She had hunted that morning and needed time to digest her meal, somewhere hidden from Faddei who kept the unattached busy, at the moment they were hauling the large tree trunks that were being used to build the stronghold’s office block and storerooms. Yansei, who had led them here, hadn’t seen fit to inform them that they would be required to work, perhaps she thought, trying to be fair, he hadn’t expected it either.

  She had been kept far too busy to look for a suitable boy. It was difficult to find any unpaired humans from whom Jilya could ‘hear’ the thoughts and emotions that would tell her that he was to be her life-mate.

  Yansei had spied a likely looking girl from one of the farms that were springing up in the area around the stronghold and had managed to find the time to speak to her. He had told Jilya that she was ‘the one’ for him but she was young and would not be allowed to pair with him until the following summer. Yansei was resigned to the wait and happy to do so. He had spoken to Asya of his intentions and the prospective pairing authorised if both parties were of the same mind when summer arrived.

  So, hot and sticky after her hunt, Jilya decided to rest beside the river a while before she took a bath in the pool set aside for the Lind. Eitel was supposed to be on the same errand, his mother Unda having decided a bath was long overdue and he was not to return home until clean. He had conveniently forgotten this.

  Lost in thought and not paying attention, Jilya stumbled over him and Eitel woke with a startled oath, which was not surprising really, considering the size and bulk of a full-grown Lind stepping on to his middle.

  “Pardon,” she said in surprised Standard. She, with the other unattached, had been taking language lessons from Faddei.

  The tousled, and she noticed, very dirty boy stood up in a hurry and faced her with a shy smile of welcome.

  “No matter,” said Eitel, “I’m not hurt.”

  He dusted himself off and they stood facing each other.

  “I’m going bathing,” Eitel blurted out, “at least that’s what I’m supposed to be doing.” Now what made me say that?

  They gazed at each other for a few moments as Jilya considered whether she should send out a light probe in an effort to find the indefinable link that would tell her if further interaction might prove interesting.

  Most Lind, when in their vicinity, could pick up some human emotions but that did not necessarily mean that they had found what Yansei termed ‘the one’ they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with. That special ‘something’ had to be there.

  No point in prevaricating she decided at last. Either he is or he isn’t. She was certainly attracted to him. She could tell the lad had not reached full-growth, but she thought him to be at least twelve summers old. She did not know that he was the Weaponsmaster’s son and like his father as a boy, Eitel was small and wiry. He did not look his fourteen years.

  She tried to insinuate her next words into his mind.

  : I am Jilya :

  Eitel’s eyes opened wide. He looked at her.

  “Hello Jilya,” he said aloud. “I’m Eitel Dahlstrom.”

  Jilya stepped back realising why the boy looked familiar. Like everyone who had met the Weaponsmaster, Jilya was in awe of both him and Mislya. What would they think if they knew what was happening? Mislya’s battle prowess was legendary. Would a matching between her and Eitel be welcomed? She had been at the stronghold long enough to know that, although the fully adult vadeln-pairs had their own dagas, often quite distant from the main complex, young humans were expected to remain within the confines of the walls. Would Mislya accept her as part of the family?

  “I say,” said Eitel, plucking up his rapidly disappearing courage, “do you fancy a swim in the river? I’m sure that would satisfy even mother.”

  “That would be nice,” she answered, her tail beginning to wag.

  He looked at her.

  “Do you know,” he added. “I thought I heard your voice
in my head?”

  : Yes. You know what that means? :

  Eitel began to smile as Jilya’s presence enveloped him with a soft cloud of love and belonging. It was inescapable, indescribable, this feeling. He opened his arms in welcome.

  Jilya loved this boy from that moment, loved him with an intensity and devotion that she felt deep within her and knew was fully reciprocated. A rush of thoughts passed between them as they stood.

  Neither of them got their much-needed bath that sunny afternoon.

  Eitel stepped towards her and wrapped his thin arms round her neck, pressing his face against her, wishing this moment could last forever. Neither realised that they had been communing for hours.

  They were interrupted by a man’s voice.

  “Eitel. Where are you? Your mother ...” Wilhelm never completed the sentence.

  He saw them standing there and rocked back on his heels, taking in the implications of what his eyes were telling him. His awkward, gangly middle son had paired with a Lind.

  There was a chuckle in his mind. Mislya, aware as always, had grasped the situation at the same time, even though she was resting in the sun some distance away.

  Wilhelm walked towards them and Eitel and Jilya emerged from their mental sharing with apprehension.

  Wilhelm didn’t say a thing. He grinned at his son as he absently patted Jilya’s neck. Mislya telepathed her own congratulations to her fellow Lind who received and accepted them with stunned pleasure. There had been no need to worry about Mislya and Wilhelm’s reaction at all.

  “Well son,” Wilhelm said, “what I am going to say to your mother I don’t know.”

  “Won’t she be pleased for me Father? It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

  “Always is a long time Eitel but I am pleased and proud. Your mother will take some time to accept it, she does not want any of her children to be soldiers and soldiers is what the Vada needs.”