A Pride of Gryphons Page 6

  The other girl, Delia, attached herself to Tatiana’s side, from marching next to her during the day to setting up their bedrolls together at night. “We girls have to stick together,” she said with a wink the first night as they were setting up camp. “I’m so glad there’s another girl I know here. I was so surprised that your mother let you join, though. She seems so traditional, and I thought they didn’t let girls fight where you come from?”

  That had never come up in all of her many arguments with her mother about joining, and Tatiana didn’t know many of the details of their homeland’s traditions beyond the fact that girls were considered inferior, part of why they’d been able to leave in the first place. “I don’t think she cared about that,” Tatiana admitted with a shrug. She patted her bedroll, making sure there were no lumpy areas hidden by the grass underneath. “She was mostly afraid of being alone. I feel a little guilty for leaving her since she doesn’t have any other children to take care of her, but she said she’d manage on her own.”

  Delia flung herself down on top of her own bed and propped herself up on one elbow. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about her being alone. She’s part of the village now and that makes her like family. Everyone helps take care of each other.”

  Tatiana nodded, feeling that to be true. She’d seen how neighbors banded together in the village—after all, they’d built a house for them without asking for anything in return. “I guess you’re right. What about your family? They didn’t mind if you left?”

  “Oh, you know how many siblings I have,” Delia said with a laugh. “They love me as much as any of my brothers and sisters, but if a few of us leave to go seek our fortunes somewhere else, it’s no big deal.” She waved in the direction of the boys on the other side of camp. “It’s mostly the same for them, too. Helyma doesn’t have a lot of room to grow. Some people our age will move to other villages, others will join the crew of a ship passing by or a trading caravan. There will still be enough left behind to cast the nets, but it’s not very exciting, is it?”

  Tatiana looked up into the night sky. Another day or two of marching would take them farther away from Helyma than she had ever known, since she had been too young to remember her early life in Kaldonia. “I hope this gets more exciting when we reach the fort,” she admitted in a low voice. “Do you think we’ll ever see the duchess?”

  Delia reached over and grabbed Tatiana’s hand in a friendly squeeze. “I hope so! I wanted to be a soldier before, but the chance to see Her Grace makes it ten times better.” She squeezed Tatiana’s hand again. “We’ll see her together.”

  Tatiana had felt too awkward and shy to have a close friend before, but she was warming up to Delia’s enthusiastic personality.

  Sergeant Yoren was a stern taskmaster during the day, but that night when camp was set up and they cooked supper together over the fire, he relaxed a little and told them about what they could expect in Fort Ropytos. Six months of training seemed like a long time, but he promised that it would fly by with many demanding activities, like learning how to handle different kinds of weapons and fighting in formation, to survival skills and first aid. They would train as a unit, taking turns in leadership and other roles to assess their abilities, and at the end of training they would be given different assignments.

  “Some of you will be sent to other forts along the border,” he explained, sketching out a rough map of Kyratia in the dirt to show them all of the places where the Storm Petrels were posted. “Those of you with an aptitude for leadership could be kept at the main fort for more advanced officer training or to develop other skills. The company needs blacksmiths, cooks, clerks, and many other jobs besides just fighters—you may serve in ways that you didn’t expect. Those skills could help you in your civilian life after you retire from the company.”

  Tatiana tried to picture all of the other forts in places she’d barely heard of, many of them far from civilization. “Isn’t there also a post inside the capital city?”

  Yoren nodded. “Yes, but it’s small, and most of the soldiers stationed there are rotated from the main fort since it’s so close. The city has its own guards, so they don’t need us to have a lot of fighters there all of the time.”

  Delia leaned forward eagerly. “Have you ever been there? Did you get to meet Duchess Korinna?”

  Yoren laughed. “I actually picked up my last batch of recruits from the city,” he said, eyes glittering with some secret. He paused, looking around at the others for dramatic effect, then added, “I was Korinna’s training officer when she joined the Storm Petrels.”

  Tatiana gasped, and felt Delia gripping her arm in equal shock. It was hard to imagine the duchess as just another recruit like them, taking orders from this old sergeant. Surely she’d gotten some kind of special treatment to jump ahead of the line, so to speak, and go straight to catching a marewing or something?

  “You gave orders to the duchess, sir?” Philagros burst out, his voice cracking in surprise.

  Yoren nodded. “She wasn’t the duchess then, but yes.” He looked around at the recruits again. “Your past lives, any money or status that you had before, none of that matters in the military structure. Everyone starts at the bottom and they can only earn their way up through hard work and service. You’ll be expected to obey the chain of command and respect your superiors, and that means anyone who isn’t a recruit.”

  Tatiana lifted her head with renewed determination. If she had the same chance as anyone, she would do her best to go all the way. Could it be fate that she ended up with the same sergeant training her as Korinna? She would take any opportunity that was offered to her.

  Varranor I

  Varranor looked over the training fields of Fort Ropytos with interest. It was true what his brother had said, that the small number of spaces open for recruits combined with the large amount of interest for people to join had given the recruiting officers the chance to select a higher level of quality than in previous years. He still wished that they could increase their ranks, but watching the earliest drills, he could already tell that these young men and women would become good soldiers. They were quick to follow orders, stayed in formation, and marched with the precision of units that had been together for weeks instead of days. The Storm Petrels would have a good year with these fighters joining them.

  Sergeant Navera and some of the other marewing riders were with him on the balcony of the officers’ building, watching the new recruits closely. In just a few months, they’d be picking among these recruits to find those with the potential to catch a marewing of their own. The more time they took to familiarize themselves with the hundreds of new recruits, the better their choices would be, so they were already watching and evaluating.

  Since all of the training officers had returned with their new units, a trend had emerged among the young people they’d brought back. In most years, women made up less than a quarter of recruits. This year, it was closer to one in three.

  Navera scanned the lines of young women who marched in front of them. “The duchess must have inspired them,” she said with a slight frown. “Galenos was the commander, but in most of the stories I’ve heard, it’s Korinna who is the hero that saved the city. I hope they haven’t gotten the wrong idea about us—what if they all expect to fall in love with a dangerously romantic mercenary?”

  Varranor smirked and leaned against the balcony railing. “Well, if they’re desperate for love, I guess I will just have to oblige them.” He spread his arms wide. “I don’t know if there’s enough of me to go around to every man and woman who wants me, but I’m willing to rise to the challenge.”

  Orivan, a new rider who showed potential and had been shadowing Navera for further training, laughed. “So, you’ll be taking a more hands-on approach to leadership, sir?”

  Varranor laughed in surprise and turned to look at the young man who had one-upped his own joke. “Yes, that’s a good one,” he said with a wink. “I’ll have to remember that one.”

  Na
vera snorted in disgust. She never appreciated Varranor’s use of innuendo. “You can’t go on with your philandering ways now that you’re the commander,” she said sternly. “Galenos let you get away with too much, but you have to set a good example to everyone who follows you. Especially the newest recruits. You’re still earning their respect.”

  Varranor sighed dejectedly. “So what would you have me do? I can’t marry like my brother.” He threw an arm around Navera’s shoulders and pretended to slump against her, pressing his other hand to his forehead. “Would you have me wasting away alone in the last years of my prime?”

  “You could settle down with one person,” Navera snapped, pushing him off of her. She folded her arms and glared at him. “No, you can’t marry, but that doesn’t mean you can’t commit to a relationship. In my experience, that works better with another rider. Someone else who’s in the company for life, so to speak, and understands our unique circumstances.”

  Varranor waggled his eyebrows at her. “Are you suggesting yourself?” He barely got the words out before he started laughing again. “No, no, I know you’re not interested. Besides, your lover was lucky enough to get a second marewing, so I suppose everything must be perfect between you again. At least you follow your own advice.”

  Navera stiffened at the personal jibe. “I would love Itychia with or without a marewing,” she said in a quiet voice.

  Itychia had lost her first marewing in a harpy attack that had almost claimed her own life. After that tragic accident, Galenos had offered the woman a large sum of money if she wanted to retire from the Storm Petrels, but she’d asked instead for another chance to be a rider. Last year she’d tried again and captured a second marewing. Her relationship with Navera had been rocky throughout the upheaval, but they were sharing their quarters again so it seemed that things had finally smoothed out between the two of them.

  Varranor realized that he’d gone too far to bring up Navera’s romantic difficulties. He dropped the joking smile. “I’m sorry.” He turned back to the training field and sighed again. “Anyway, it seems a shame that there are so many new young men and women right there, but I can’t do anything. I suppose you would disapprove of even a little flirting?”

  Navera didn’t bother responding to that question. “If you don’t have anything serious to discuss with me, Commander, then I have other duties to attend to. Am I dismissed?”

  Varranor straightened up and reached for the door. “Actually, there was one matter that I would like to talk to you about in private.” He beckoned for her to step into his office ahead of him.

  As Navera walked inside, he glanced back at the other riders and signaled that they could stay out on the balcony or leave as they chose. Perhaps a little informal, but they were all used to hand signals for communication in the air where spoken commands weren’t always heard from one marewing rider to the next, and he was used to being more informal with his fellow riders. Despite the strict hierarchy in the rest of the company, the elite riders were more cooperative like friends after their many years of flying together. So he could joke around with them, and Navera could scold in her mothering way, without disrupting military discipline.

  Just before he left, he caught Orivan’s eye. The young man returned the cheeky wink he’d sent earlier. That was just as surprising as his earlier joke. Varranor made a mental note to get to know him better, if he could ever find the time. He didn’t know last year’s graduated class of new riders as well as he usually did.

  But first, he had something to ask Navera.

  ***

  Navera ignored the ostentatious decoration inside the commander’s office and went straight to two plain chairs at the back of the room. She sat in one without waiting for him to offer and looked up at him. “What is it? And don’t ask me to set you up with any of the other riders, because I’m not getting involved in your personal life.”

  “No, you’ll just lay down the rules of what I can and can’t do,” Varranor grumbled. He opened a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of brandy with two glasses. “Would you like a drink?”

  Navera shook her head. “It’s the middle of the day.” She pursed her lips together and looked up at him. “When you and your brother hired me to teach you how to ride a marewing and run a mercenary company, I didn’t think it would turn into a nursemaid’s job. But it’s been over a decade now and I find that I still have to tell you how to behave.”

  Varranor put one glass back and filled the other only halfway, minding the sergeant’s disapproval, but he wasn’t going to get through this conversation without something to drink. “I know, I’m just too incorrigible,” he said, grinning as he walked over to sit with her. “And that brings me to the main issue that I wanted to discuss with you.”

  He sipped his drink, trying to remember the words that he’d rehearsed the night before. “The thing is, you’ve been part of the Storm Petrels for longer than anyone but Galenos and me.” He swirled the brandy in his glass, looking down at the amber liquid instead of Navera’s face, because he wasn’t ready to see her reaction. “You’ve done far more than we ever expected you to, from training us and helping us get the company off the ground, so to speak, to training up every new rider we’ve had since then. But now, with Galenos retired, I think I need you more than ever.”

  Navera shifted in her chair to cross her legs. “What are you trying to say?”

  He cracked a smile, trying to hide his nervousness behind humor, but he felt that she was looking right through his act anyways. “Well, I’m the commander, but I don’t have—that is, I don’t want to keep running to Galenos for advice on the company when he has his own city to run. Would you be my second-in-command?” He looked up at her hopefully.

  Navera’s face showed little emotion beyond her usual pensive expression as she considered the offer. “You do need a second,” she said slowly. “But you also need someone to train new marewing riders, unless you plan to stop adding more. I can’t do both.”

  Varranor put the glass down on the table beside him. “We’re not expanding the company, but we do need to keep up new members to replace those we lose. We only had ten new riders last year, and my brother and his new wife were an extra two retirements, so we need at least twenty new riders to keep our numbers up this year. We also need more of the younger riders to train as officers so we don’t have too much of an aging leadership. But couldn’t you pass on the training to someone else?”

  Navera frowned. “Who? All of your experienced officers are running their own units, and I don’t think you could afford to replace one of them right now.”

  Here was the part that he was the most nervous about. “I was actually thinking of Itychia.”

  Her eyes widened. “Why would you pick her? My personal feelings about her put aside, she’s so inexperienced. Even if you count the time that she spent with Dawnheart, her combined time as a rider amounts to barely two years, and that only includes one actual battle.” She shook her head. “I’d hire an officer from another company before I put her in such a big role.”

  He leaned closer. “I haven’t asked if any of the other companies have riders who are looking to move elsewhere—but consider this.” He held up two fingers. “She’s been through your training twice, so she doesn’t have a lot of fighting experience, but she knows better than anyone how to catch and tame a new marewing. And she’s got unique experience with handling two different marewings. Spiritwind has almost the opposite temperament that Dawnheart had—so she might know better than any of us how each marewing has different needs.” He pointed at Navera. “And you could work with her directly to supervise how she did with the first class or two.”

  She raised one eyebrow. “All while acting as your second?”

  He waved a hand back and forth. “Well, there would be a transitionary period, so to speak. As you grow more confident in her abilities, you take a step back and let her take over as much as she can handle, and you could help me with the rest of the company when y
ou’re not there with her.” He grinned at the brilliance of the plan. The solution had come to him all at once, in a moment of inspiration, and it seemed perfect. Surely Navera could see that.

  But she hesitated, still mulling it over in her head. “I’ll have to think about it,” she said at last. “And discuss it over with Itychia. She was very…fragile after the death of Dawnheart. Getting Spiritwind went a long way to healing that loss, but I don’t want to put too much strain on her before she’s ready.” She frowned with concern.

  He nodded sympathetically. He couldn’t imagine what he would do if he ever lost Skyfire. Riders retired when their marewings grew too old for active duty, and eventually those marewings would die of old age, and the former riders were lost without them, so they didn’t typically outlive their mounts for more than a few years. When a marewing died in combat, her rider usually died with her. Itychia was unusual—Spiritwind had sacrificed her own life to save her.

  Navera got to her feet, and Varranor stood to face her. “I’ll let you know my answer when I’ve decided,” she said. She reached up and kissed him on both cheeks in farewell.

  “I hope you’ll say yes,” he said, smiling and kissing her back. “If you don’t, you’ll have to tell me who else I can pick, because I can’t manage this all without some sort of help.” He winked at her. “And I’ll try to keep in mind what you said about keeping my distance from the new recruits and earning their respect. I’ll only invite other riders to my wild orgies from now on.”

  Navera groaned and rolled her eyes, but she didn’t rise to the bait, just left him alone in the office. She knew that as much as he enjoyed philandering, as she called it, with as many different lovers as he could manage, he’d never gone so far as to throw an actual orgy. That sounded like too much coordination and he got enough of that as a commander.