Free The Blasted Lands by James A. Moore

methodically seeped its way through clothes, shoes and supplies. Had it been any warmer, there would likely have been worries about the supplies mildewing. Instead they just marched on, keeping a brisk pace in the hopes of staying warm in the chill, misty air.
    The caravan came from the east. They traveled the Imperial Highway, and those who had horses were glad of them. Those that did not carried their packs and their supplies and walked the distance from Old Canhoon at a steady march. The road here was old but well tended, and cut into the low-lying hills. In some places the paths were deeply enough worn that the soldiers almost disappeared from sight and in others they were level to the ground, but as one of the outer ranks and charged with watching the flanks of the entire column, it was occasionally amusing to watch the men seemingly sink into the ground fog, like the specters he’d heard tell of as a child.
    Nolan March preferred walking the edges of the column and keeping an eye out. It broke the monotony of staring at the backs of the men in front of him when he was forced to march the column.
    Nolan carried himself easily enough. He’d grown up in the north, joined the army when he was of age and had now been trained as a soldier. Canhoon was where he was assigned and where he’d expected to stay, but now he was on his way to Tyrne, where he was supposed to join the Imperial Guard and where he would see his family again.
    That was the plan before he found out about the death of his father, Wollis. He hadn’t seen the old man in a long time and now it looked like he would never see him again. The thought was a hard one to accept. He’d grown up believing his father was nearly indestructible. The man had been on the road and traveling for most of Nolan’s life, but he’d always seemed almost like a giant when he was home and he’d always been the first to tell stories of the military life and the people he’d fought with and against.
    Thinking about Wollis made his chest swell with pride and his heart ache with loss at the same time. He would be missed.
    The man who’d been his father’s commander had sent for him. The plan had been to reunite the entire family and Nolan was grateful for the effort, even if it hadn’t worked out.
    “First thing I do when we get to Tyrne, is I take the money I’ve saved up and buy myself a new pair of boots. These bastards are falling off my feet.” The voice came from Darus Leeds, who could rightly enough be called Nolan’s friend. Which is to say he was one of the people in the battalion that Nolan liked and additionally was one of the few he trusted. Nolan was not big on trust. His first few weeks in the army had taught him that many people are thieves. Those same weeks had taught a few of the thieves that stealing from Nolan was a very bad idea.
    Stonehaven was a long ways off, but the lessons he’d learned in his hometown stuck with him. Most of the people in the area, not surprisingly, worked in the quarries and worked hard for what they owned. That tended to make them a bit reluctant to let go when something was taken from them.
    Darus was fairly tall and lean, but Nolan had already learned that didn’t mean much. While he was nowhere near as solidly built as Nolan he was as strong as an ox and had a fearsome way with a sword. They often faced off against each other in practice matches and from time to time teamed up against other members of the battalion. Darus came from a good distance to the east, somewhere near Elda. From what he’d told Nolan, the people in his area still trained hard with sword and shield alike. Nolan saw no reason to doubt those claims.
    Darus was looking his way and expecting a response. “What?”
    “I said what are your big plans when you get to Tyrne?”
    Nolan looked away. “I’m supposed to meet with a family friend.” He muttered the words and a little twist of guilt nibbled at his insides. It was unjustified but the guilt was