Free Return of the Crimson Guard by Ian C. Esslemont Page A

the appearance of a single man walking out of the forest generated panic enough. Old men and youths came running carrying spears, javelins and bows. Traveller treated with them at the edge of their collection of shacks where a stream braided its way out of the rocks and trees to run in a sheen down the mudflats to the ocean.
     
He returned alone. ‘They're a wary lot. The usual fears. Don't know if I soothed them at all. Let's continue on a way south. Keep an eye out for good trees.’
‘Trees? So you are building a boat then.’
‘Yes. I am.’
‘Then what?’
‘Then we wait.’
He walked away and Ereko almost laughed at his own surprised flash of frustration. Dealing with this man was almost as irritating as negotiating with that most reclusive of races, the Assail. He shook his head at himself and followed. To think that during all his many years he had prided himself on his patience!
Traveller pushed his way through the dense underbrush, stopping occasionally to point out a possible tree for harvesting and to talk through its merits. Eventually, Ereko joined in his speculations and they exchanged wisdom on the fine art of wood selection for the construction of a sturdy, yet flexible, ocean-going craft.
Ereko decided that Traveller knew a fair bit on the subject, for a human.

    * * *

In the aftermath of the Nabrajan contract payment arrived in the form of war material of weapons and armour, treated hides, iron ingots and pack animals. The mercantile houses, traditional slave-traders, were also happy to pay in slaves, which Shimmer was also happy to accept. The Guard marched east, downriver, through rolling farmed plains to the coast. On the trading road to the coastal city of Kurzan, the existence of which had only been a rumour to Kyle's people, Shimmer ordered the slaves assembled in a muddy field.
     
Dressed in bright mail from her neck to her calves, her helmet under an arm, and her long black hair blowing free in the wind, she faced them. ‘We in the Guard do not accept slavery. Therefore, you will all be released.’
Stunned silence met the announcement. Even fellow tribesmen and women stared a cringing wary disbelief. Kyle was ashamed.
‘Those of you who wish to take up arms and join the Guard of your own free will please go to the standard for examination and induction. The rest of you will be free to go.’
And so through that day the line of men and women wishing induction into the ranks of the Guard ran its course. Those too old or infirm were rejected to rejoin their fellows awaiting their release. Eventually, as dusk came, all those who voluntarily chose to join and were found acceptable were marched away.
Needless to say, those remaining were not released. They werere-bound into their linked manacles and led away. They hardly moaned. So beaten down were they that perhaps they imagined the whole exercise a sham solely meant to single out the strong and young to be sold elsewhere. And perhaps, in its own way, that's exactly what it was.
The army, nearly seven thousand souls strong, wound its way east skirting the River Thin. After two weeks the Guard camped on the coast south of Kurzan, overlooking the Anari Narrows where ships rested at anchor in its sheltered, calm waters. Northward, Kyle could just make out the grey and tan towers of the city harbour defences.
‘Ships!’ Stoop announced, slapping him on the back. ‘Ships,’ he repeated, savouring the word.
‘Ships,’ Kyle echoed, having only heard them described. He did not relish having to enter the belly of one. It seemed unnatural.
‘Now what?’
‘We camp. Train. Wait.’
‘What's happening?’
Stoop adjusted his leather cap of a helmet, scratched his grey fringe of bristles. ‘Negotiations, Kyle. Shimmer's negotiating in the city to hire ships.’ The old saboteur pinched something between his nails, grimaced. ‘Tell me, lad. How do you feel about swimming?’
‘It's not natural for people to go into water.’
‘Well, now's a fine