Kings of Heaven by Richard Nell

Author:Richard Nell [Nell, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-08-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

"Five ranks, split formation! Reform you lazy bastards!"

Osco stood in the immaculate field of the royal training grounds, outside the block of his two hundred troops. Nearly as many officers looked on from the nearby seats and sidelines, but Osco wasn't bothered. He'd taught and drilled his men on every piece of the rotating formation his people called Flexing Fist. Now it was time to put it together.

"Move back, give your brothers space! You think the enemy is going to wait? Shield-turn, step back, next row forward. Oncoming rows—shield slam or stab, then shields up. Find the gaps. Keep in formation. And watch your damn feet. Your position holds until your officer calls."

He walked down the line dragging his sword along the wall of shields. The young men stood panting, eyes forward, faces red and sweating in the hot sun. They weren't up to Mesanite standards, nor even close, but compared to other Naranians they were gods. Osco grunted in mild approval.

"You do not advance. You do not retreat." He pointed his sword at the painted line on the sand, which showed almost uniformly before the men's toes. "This marks holy ground. Behind it is a cliff; before it the sea." He lunged forward, face inches from one of the men. "What happens if you go forward?"

"I drown, sir."

"You drown," he pulled back. "You are one hand, one foot. You can't swim alone, you can't do anything. Can you fly, soldiers?"

"No, sir," they chanted as one.

"You can't go back. You can't go forward. So you hold your fucking sacred ground until your brothers say push, because together you can swim, fly, and kill. You can do anything. Change ranks. Second row. Churn."

The first rank twisted their shields to the side and fell back in one smooth motion. The rank behind rushed ahead, jabbing the rims of their shields or their short swords at an invisible enemy with a roar before forming a new wall.

Osco swiped the still visible colored line in the sand in front of a soldier's foot. The young man didn't look down or flinch. Osco grinned.

"Very good. Break and eat. Strength and endurance all afternoon. Impress me, and tomorrow is a rest. Dismissed."

The men cheered and broke as Osco turned for the mess. If he was honest, the speed of their improvement surprised him. But there were still many problems.

Firstly, they still had the habits of spoiled, city-dwelling children. They were picky eaters. They worried too much how they looked or whose father was richest or indeed who they were outside of soldiering. At least he'd dealt with their god-cursed top knots.

Two weeks of drilling to exhaustion had destroyed several bad habits as it always did. A broken down man did only what he had to, and fretting over his hair didn't count. Once Osco had them all near shattered he'd started sparring sessions, which he ended over and over with a firm grip on stupidly long hair, dragging the man down to the sand, and kicking him into submission.

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