Date: Sat, 17 Jan 2015 12:06:03 -0500 From: George Gauthier Subject: Elf-Boy's Friends 7 Elf-Boy's Friends 7 The Far West, Part III of V by George Gauthier [The further adventures of characters from the novel 'Elf-Boy and Friends'] Chapter 9. The Flatlands The landscape immediately below the escarpment was scrub forest, desolate and uninhabitable in the old days for fear of marauding centaurs. The creatures could not stay long in the hotter climate of the lowlands, but they could stage nighttime raids out to a distance of a day's march. Or should it be called a ride for the six-limbed creatures? Beyond that uncultivated belt lay an agricultural countryside, green, well-watered, and dotted with villages. Those closest to the band of desolation were defended by palisades, but the rest were normal villages, though none showed sign of any real prosperity. Their inhabitants looked like they were just getting by. The manor houses of the landowners were comfortable rather than palatial. They were the rambling country homes of hands-on gentry who managed some of their lands directly, while drawing quitrents from tenants on their remaining acres. The institution of quitrents had freed the cultivators from feudal labor obligations. To attract settlers to work these lands close to the escarpment, landholders had found it necessary to give their tenants a better deal than serfdom and to work the rest of their acres with hired help paid decent wages. Despite its name the region called the Flatlands did have its ups and downs. Relief features included the ranges of low hills which separated drainage basins and the occasional isolated granite peak or tor, a place no doubt featured in local legend as the dark lair of trolls or scaly monsters. The tops of several of these prominences hosted Army heliograph stations, part of a line leading back to the New Varangia and Commonwealth. One geological feature sparked Drew's interest: a swarm of magmatic dikes two hundred paces wide, a hundred paces high, and nine miles long. Created by an ancient intrusion of lava into continental crust and since exposed by erosion, it left behind parallel walls of basalt rising vertically. The road ran through a passage blasted a century earlier by a wizard using white fire. Drew persuaded the others to lay over for a few days in the village which lay just beyond the narrow passage the coach had negotiated. They took rooms at an inn and used the layover to perfect their climbing techniques. All had had some experience, but not all of the same kind, and the four of them had never climbed while roped with others. From construction crews in the capital Drew had picked up a set of simple hand signals. Some were obvious, left, right, up, and down. Patting the air meant go easy, and a clenched fist meant stop or hold. Their climbing equipment was top of the line with ropes of elven manufacture. Made of spider silk, the ropes were light and strong and kind to bare hands. Drew and Finn climbed in their normal footwear of stout sandals, while the twins went barefoot. All four wore short trews and belts for hooking up their climbing ropes and hanging their gear. At first they climbed using only physical strength. Sure Drew could Lift them all, but better they practice doing without his magic in case he were incapacitated or elsewhere at the time. Drew showed the twins and Finn how to drive pitons into the rock so they would hold even Finn's four hundred pounds. Climbing a peak with just muscles was hard work, but the climbers got a lot of satisfaction proving they could do it the hard way. The thrill of reaching the top made them feel like kings of the mountain. Then Drew invoked his powers. Their standard technique became for Drew to Lift one of the others, say Finn, follow his hand signals, and set him onto a handy ledge or shelf. Once in place, Finn tapped a piton home and strung a rope through the eye. Then Finn could take a strain on the rope and let the others swarm up it. If one of the twins went up first, his technique was to belay the rope around a rock or through another piton so as to take even Finn's weight. Alternatively they could rig a pair of pulleys to ease Finn upwards. "If only I could just Lift myself!" Drew exclaimed in frustration after a long hot day of climbing. "I can Lift a brontothere into the sky but not my own small body. Arrh!" Karel's face brightened with inspiration. "I've got it!" "Got what?" "A way for you to Lift yourself. Well, maybe. It's worth a try anyway." "Hmm, I think I know what Karel is getting at," Jemsen said, "and yes, it is definitely worth a try," endorsing his brother's as yet unstated idea. "You guys aren't setting me up to make a fool of myself are you? Maybe as payback for the way I strung you along about that sex manual?" With an air of offended innocence, Karel sniffed: "How can you even suggest such a thing?" "OK, let's hear it." Drew said warily. "Lift yourself by your sandals." Karel said, pointing at Drew's feet, while Jemsen nodded. "That's it? Your brainstorm is that I Lift my own sandals?" "Your gift cannot move your own body, right? So, move something else, like your sandals, and since you are standing in them, your body will go along for the ride." Drew was stunned. "Actually, it's so simple it just might work. Better try it over there in that grassy meadow in case I come down hard." "Just low power, Drew. Remember you're not lifting a brontothere. You weigh only a hundred pounds." "Nodding at Jemsen's reminder, Drew took a comfortable stance, feet shoulder width apart, and invoked his gift. At first nothing happened. Like all Fetchers down the ages Drew had a mental block against levitation. Everyone knew it was impossible. No one could Lift himself. Drew focussed his attention on his sandals and on maintaining his balance. Slowly, ever so slowly, he rose a few feet into the air. It was tricky. You had to keep your weight on the balls of your feet by bending the knees slightly and holding your arms out to the side. "Yes!" Drew yelled, thrusting his arms up triumphantly. Unfortunately that upset his balance. He tipped backwards, lost control of his gift, fell four feet, and landed on his rump. "Ai! Nothing like a kick in the ass to impress on you the need to pay attention to what you are doing." After a moment he added: "You know, I have to wonder, if this is how the druids Levitate?" "Probably. What you did just now looks like how Owain Levitated at Stone Mountain. He said it was mostly just going up and down, with only a little bit of forward motion if you tipped your weight a bit. You cannot swoop across the sky like a bird." "Thanks guys, especially you Karel. You have a knack for original thinking." "You gave me the germ of the idea yourself, Drew, writing about those iron roads where fetchers push or draw freight wagons along iron rails. They move themselves too since they are riding atop one of the wagons in the train. You did much the same thing with that skiff during rescue work." "Pushing a freight wagon or a skiff or lifting sandals, it's all the same thing really." Jemsen added. "I guess only guys who were not Fetchers would have that kind of unconventional insight." The twins preened. "I'll practice this technique every day till I get it right. Once it becomes second nature to me, I will be able to invoke my gift in other ways while I am aloft. I could whirl my steel spheres or fend off arrows or lift allies to commanding heights. I'll definitely write this up for my newsletter, the Transactions of the Confraternities of the Gifted. With the power of levitation we Fetchers will have bragging rights in the whole gifted community." "Great, but may I make another suggestion?" "Sure. What is it Karel?" "You need a catchier name for your newsletter. 'Transactions of the Confraternities of the Gifted' is so lame." "Point taken." From atop the highest of the parallel volcanic dikes the boys could see for a hundred miles. To the south lay the northernmost lobe of the Great Inland Freshwater Sea. A broad river emptied into it, flowing past a port city sited on a peninsula at the mouth of the river. From his map Jemsen identified it as one of the maritime republics that had long traded with the Commonwealth. Its seaport and river port served the countries upstream. Unlike many of the states in the Flatlands which relied on agriculture alone, the city state thrived on trade and industry. Its inhabitants were free citizens and its popular assembly even had a role in the republic's governance. The fields and orchards in its hinterland provided sufficient crops for most of its own needs though nothing was produced for export. Chapter 10 Cymru The travelers resumed their journey by the next coach and arrived eight days later at the city of Caerdydd, capital of the land of Cymru, headquarters for the Commonwealth's mission to the Far West. "Funny, isn't it?" Karel said. "The locals spell the name of their country with a 'u' at the end but pronounce it as an 'i'. It's 'Cymru' rather than 'Cymri'. Actually 'K-I-M-R-I' would be more like it. And why does the name of their capital city end in two d's? Surely one is enough." The blond shook his head as he continued: "Sadly, the orthography of names of places and persons in these benighted regions is anything but phonetic. Centuries ago great minds devised the 42 letters of the alphabet, one letter for each sound in the common tongue, to make it easy to acquire literacy, but these contrarians throw it all away." "It's an old story, Karel's complaining about spelling, I mean." Jemsen noted to the others. "Well it offends my sense of order." Karel explained defensively. For once the four were dressed in their military uniforms complete with rank insignia and decorations. All wore full-length trews and loose shirts, vented at the side. The twins even wore sandals like those Drew and Finn wore. A good idea as it turned out, given the griminess of the streets. Not expecting trouble, they carried their weapons packed for travel not held at the ready. The twins carried their quarterstaffs over their shoulders along with their unstrung bows and quivers while the scabbards of their kukris were hung from their belts. Drew wore his utility belt with pouches for his steel spheres and soporific darts plus his blade in the scabbard at his back. Finn dragged a borrowed travois with their packs and the heavy stuff including their climbing gear plus his twelve foot spear, sword, and buckler. The lapel of Drew's shirt sported the badge marking an award of the Military Cross for Valor, belatedly conferred on him after he took a commission in the reserves, in recognition of his actions during the Second Centaur War. Each of the twins sported two such badges, the first earned for their role in the battle of annihilation during the most recent war for the Eastern Plains. Their second Military Cross was earned at the Battle of the Ravine. Finn wore his regular shirt and trews with the brassards of his rank in the Fyrd of New Varangian. The Frost Giants did not have any use for military decorations. One's reputation was deemed to be enough. Commonwealth headquarters lay across the city from where the coach dropped them off. The four youths did not mind the walk. It gave them a chance to see the city. A large city, it looked nothing like the main cities in the Commonwealth, Caerdydd was laid out without a plan. It was a warren of narrow streets and lanes, bustling with humans. Only a few dwarves or giants or elves were on the streets, though perhaps they lived in districts they bypassed. Only the public buildings in the civic center were at all impressive. Many soldiers were out and about engaged in the usual pursuits of off-duty troops with time on their hands and money to spend. The variety of uniforms indicated foreign contingents from the countries which belonged to the alliance against the Despotate. While Finn stepped up to a carry-out counter to buy them a snack to quiet their growling stomachs nine soldiers with stubbly faces and grubby uniforms marched by. They noticed the twins and Drew who were quenching their thirst at a public fountain. "Well, well, well", one of them began in a falsely hearty tone. "What do we have here, three cute soldier boys all decked out in Commonwealth uniforms. Their Army must be recruiting them young these days." "Nay, not soldier boys but boy soldiers, kids playing at soldier, parading around in their daddies' old uniforms, would be my guess." another corrected. "Boy soldiers? You mean toy-soldiers, don't you? And look they're all sporting badges for military decorations. Unless my eyes deceive me, those badges proclaim these kids to be holders of the Commonwealth's Military Cross for Valor. The blonds have two of them, each. Now how likely is that?" The leader swaggered forward. "The truth is that this trio of phonies are't even toy-soldiers. They are boy-toys, cute rent boys decked out in those uniforms to pique the interest of real soldiers like us. And coming in from three weeks of maneuvers, we all have an itch to scratch. I'm right, aren't I pretty ones? No doubt you are longing for strong men to take charge of you and put you through your paces. It is what boys of your sort were born for." "You might as well peel off them uniforms before the military police see you and arrest you for impersonating officers and for wearing unauthorized decorations. The Army of the Commonwealth is touchy about such things. Otherwise, before you know it, you'll be spending your nights locked up with the hard cases in the stockade. And you know what happens then. Things can get rough behind bars. And no coin in the bargain for your trouble." Drew straightened his shoulders, looked him right in the eye and said evenly: "You just want us to strip and submit our bodies to your lusts. That is not going to happen. No offense, Sergeant, but you and your men are not our type. Besides there are rules against fraternization between officers and those of other ranks." "Harrumph. Men, what we have here is a barracks lawyer. We'll soon set him straight, won't we." That brought a rumble of assent from all but an older man in back, a corporal by his insignia. He shook his head, but kept his peace, for the moment anyway. "Look," the sergeant went on. "We all know you kids aren't really no officers or even genuine soldiers, so you gotta get out of them duds anyway. Before you get into trouble. Besides we're not such bad fellows, me and my men, and we clean up pretty good too. So come along to the baths and we can all of us get squeaky clean and have some fun too. Food and drink are on us on top of what we'll pay you. What do you say?" "Not interested." "Now look, we did ask nice. Don't make us insist." Drew just shook his head. "You are making a mistake. Back off." "Ooh! A real tough guy. The little red-head has me quaking in my boots!" Just then Finn stepped out from the shaded portico, his hand resting conspicuously on the hilt of his kukri. "Do we have a problem here?" "None that calls for bared steel, stranger. No one is looking to draw blood or to really hurt anyone for that matter. The worst these rent boys face is some bruises if he have to hold them down while we have our way with them. Oh, and likely sore bottoms in the morning, but they should be used to that. It goes with their line of work. Anyway, what business is it of yours." "Those three are not rent boys, but they are friends of mine. Move along now before any unpleasantness ensues." "Who are you to tell us to move along, big boy? This is our country, not yours. Too many foreigners around these days, damnation!" "Uh, Sarge, maybe we should back off and let these boys go. Our regular girls and joy-boys are ready and willing." "Same old, same old, Fychan. I'd like some fresh meat for a change." "Better listen to your corporal there." Finn advised. "Huh. Nine of us pitting our fists against one half-grown Frost Giant and three skinny kids. Think about those odds." The corporal shook his head. "Sergeant, you may not know who those guys are, but I do. They're famous. I read about them in that book I passed along to you. The blonds are the deadliest archers on the continent. The Frost Giant is that Young Finn, the one who stood with Old Arn in the Breach. And the little red-head is the most dangerous one of them all. He is that deadly Fetcher. Just by himself he could take us all out without breaking a sweat." "No way." "Look for yourself. Anyone can pin a badge on a lapel, but no one is crazy enough to wear a Friendship tattoo if he isn't entitled to it. The elves, dwarves, or giants would burn it off or slice it off his shoulder. See there, the little red-head is a Giant Friend. The blonds bear the tattoos of Giant-friends, Elf-friends, and Dwarf-friends. Put it together: two beautiful blond boys, identical twins, archers, three tattoos. The only humans like that alive are the famous twins Jemsen and Karel of the Commonwealth." "In the flesh!" Karel confirmed with a outward sweep of his arms. "And it's Captains Sirs Jemsen and Karel, but you may call us Sirs for short." The sergeant and his men blanched, suddenly realizing they had overstepped. "We are on our way to Commonwealth headquarters." Drew continued smoothly. "Perhaps the good corporal could show us the way?" "The sergeant nodded at Corporal Fychan and told Drew: "I am sure that he would be happy to guide you. Uh, no offense, sir, about anything that might have been said before." "None taken, Sergeant. So let's us be on our way and you and your men on yours." As the soldiers trooped off the corporal walked over to Drew. "Thank you sir, for defusing the situation and for letting us off easy. Don't get the wrong idea. Sergeant Powys is a good soldier and a good non-com, the kind who looks after his men. That is all he was doing just now. When he saw you on the street, three walking wet dreams, he wanted you for his men as much as for himself The Commonwealth forces ran us ragged on maneuvers these last few weeks. Good training, sure, but a whole lot of marching and tramping through rough country. All of us needed bucking up." "So Corporal Fychan, you mentioned you had read my book." "Could hardly put it down, sir. It is a real page turner. You are a terrific writer, Ensign Altair." "I know it was a best seller, but I never saw any sales figures for the Far West." "You wouldn't have. Most who read it probably did what I did, rented a copy from a circulating library. Anyway it was an edition put out by a local publisher. "No wonder I didn't see any royalties from those sales. These lands are not under the copyright laws of the Commonwealth. Not yet anyway." "Sorry, sir." Not your fault. Not anyone's really. Maybe I didn't make money out here on that first book, but now my name is known to the reading public. Let's hope they flock to buy my future books after they join the Commonwealth." "Glad you are taking it philosophically, sir. While you are in such a good mood about it, I might as well tell you that the same publisher put out an edition of your second book, the one about the wars for the Eastern Plains." That brought a rueful smile and a shrug. Chapter 11. Generals Urqaart and Zaldor With the good corporal's guidance the travelers found their way across town to their destination. The military encampment was really a small town sprung up on the outskirts of the city where they had room for the cavalry. After more than four years the original canvas or leather tents had been replaced by buildings of timber or brick, lending the installation an air of permanency. The Commonwealth flag flew in front of headquarters, a deliberately unimposing edifice in the center of a quadrangle of similar two storey buildings. Jemsen showed their papers to an orderly who directed them to the duty officer who had them shown to comfortable quarters in the building next door where they dropped their kit, sent their soiled clothes to the laundry, bathed, and generally made themselves presentable for the brass. Alerted to their arrival, both Lord Zaldor and General, more correctly Marshal Urqaart, were waiting for them in the latter's office. "Well well, well, look who has turned up at our door." Urqaart remarked genially as the four travelers trooped in and saluted. "Welcome to Caerdydd, young soldiers four!" Zaldor said, returning their salute. Remarkably for him, Zaldor was in Army uniform, that of a brigade general. "Thank you Lord Zaldor or should I say General Zaldor? Why the uniform and whatever happened to your retirement, sir?" Drew asked, ever the inquisitive journalist. "Oh the uniform? My military garb is a formality intended to impress the local leaders, many of whom are hard-headed fighting men. The Army reactivated my commission and sweetened the deal with an entirely undeserved promotion. Make no mistake, all military matters remain in Urquaart's capable hands. As a divisional general he outranks me. Also the Alliance appointed him to lead the joint military command and laid a fancy title on him to go with his new status." "Gentlemen, I give you Marshall-General, Sir Brian Urqaart of the Eastern Plains, Shield of the Commonwealth, and Supreme Commander of the Allied Host. "Marshall-General?" Drew asked. "Divisional General is my permanent rank in the Army of the Commonwealth though for this assignment I have been breveted to Corps General. As such I am in command of the twenty-thousand or so Commonwealth soldiers stationed here in the Far West." Urqaart explained, "but the Alliance has also appointed me Marshall and Supreme Commander of those military units which they have dedicated to a joint command." "Urqaart flies a personal flag which sports a double-headed eagle. At ceremonies he rates a fancy bugle call with ruffles and flourishes." Urqaart rolled his eyes. "It is really too much for a simple soldier like myself, but I go along with it for the sake of the alliance." "Anyway my friend General Zaldor is the last one to be poking fun at fancy titles. Were I to recite my distinguished colleague's honorary titles we would be at it for the rest of the afternoon." "That's not that much of an exaggeration, I am afraid", Zaldor explained ruefully to the youngsters. "The man who stands before you, when styled in full is: Brigade General, Lord Rahnald Zaldor, Sword of the Commonwealth, Councillor of the Commonwealth of the Long River, High Earl of Vanderhagen, Baron of the Sachsen Reach, and Ambassador Plenipotentiary to the Alliance of the Far West." "That's a real mouthful!" Drew chuckled. "Isn't it though?" Zaldor agreed. "He left out that he is also holder of the Military Cross for Valor, like all of you are." Urqaart added. "Ha! It's another duel of impressive titles!" Karel exclaimed. Jemsen explained to the generals that the first duel of titles happened a half a dozen years earlier in Elysion and had gone down in local legend. It also bore mentioning the twins themselves had nearly as many titles as Zaldor did himself. Speaking in the affected baritone which the twins used facetiously to sound profound, Jemsen intoned: "Know gentles, that you stand in the presence of no less than Captains, Sirs Jemsen and Karel, Holders of the Military Cross for Valor, Elf-friends, Dwarf-friends, and Giant-friends, and Masters in the Honorable Guild of Cartographers." "I suppose we can all take satisfaction knowing that our titles were earned and not simply inherited." Zaldor conceded. "We Frost Giants don't have much use for titles", Finn rumbled, "but we do value our reputations. For my part, I am satisfied to be known simply as Finn Ragnarson or the Young Finn who stood with Old Arn in the Breach." "Gosh, as a lowly Ensign, I am feeling so left out." Drew complained disconsolately. "Don't sell yourself short, my young friend, " Zaldor replied. "Remember, you are not just Ensign Drew Altair, you are also a Giant-friend, and a Holder of the Military Cross for Valor. That's a good start for anyone your age." "And you're also a two-time Winner of the Writer's Prize." Jemsen reminded him. "And among us Frost Giants Drew, you are celebrated as The Brave Little Fetcher Who Stood with Old Arn and Young Finn in the Breach." Drew brightened. "Saying it like that, sounding the capital letters, does make it sound like a title," Drew admitted. "What did I tell you, Ensign Altair? There are honors enough to go around." Zaldor said encouragingly. The 'young soldiers four', as they now thought themselves to be, joined the two generals for supper at a large circular table in the post dining room. The main dish was a savory stew made with venison, carrots, and chunks of a pale root vegetable. It came with a side dish of asparagus and walnuts in an oil and vinegar dressing and pumpernickel bread. Carafes of a full-bodied red wine were set at both ends of the table. "Zaldor and I rotate the officers who break bread with us around this table", Urqaart explained. "An informal setting like this lets us get acquainted with our younger leaders and also sound them out about morale, the state of training, problems with the facilities or the allies, and so forth. They know that here at table they may speak freely, even if it is to tell us bad news. It goes to make for a better command climate." "Just one more reason you both have had such success in your military careers." Drew observed shrewdly. "I was very much impressed to see that you, General Urqaart, wear the badge for the Shield of the Commonwealth, a medal higher in precedence than our own Military Crosses. And you General Zaldor have won the highest medal of them all, the Sword of the Commonwealth. What is the story behind those, if I may ask." "Ah yes, the Sword of the Commonwealth. In truth the medal is a souvenir of a rash action during a misspent youth." "Nonsense! Lord Zaldor is being entirely too modest." Urqaart interjected, then explained: "I didn't see it myself, mind you, but during my first year at the military academy, I got the story from an instructor who had been there. Zaldor was a captain, having already won the Military Cross and a battlefield commission three years earlier. In that battle he commanded the skirmishers, who at first harried the enemy battle line, then withdrew and reformed behind our lines as planned." "A large force of infantry suddenly appeared on our right flank, having crossed supposedly impassable terrain. This force threatened to roll up our line and destroy our entire army." "Now skirmishers are light infantry armed with missile weapons, and Zaldor's bowmen and slingers had already expended their combat load of arrows and lead bullets. It was while they were still drawing ammo from the supply carts that the flanking force appeared on our right wing. At that moment, the rest of our army was fully committed. Only the skirmishers were in a position to confront the surprise attack." "It looked hopeless. Nevertheless the skirmishers shook themselves out into a battle line and let loose with a hail of arrows and slung bullets, those they had to hand anyway. They killed or wounded the soldiers in the front ranks of the enemy. Stung by their losses and judging they had little to fear from our scratch force, the enemy advanced at a trot, their ranks falling into disorder, which opened gaps in their line." "Then the skirmishers ran out of ammo again. There was nowhere to retreat. The entire army was surrounded. It looked hopeless. Zaldor rallied his men, telling them that ammo or not they had to attack. What happened next seems insane. The doomed men cheered three times, defiantly brandishing their long knives and kukris at the enemy." "With their commander out in front the skirmishers charged and closed with the heavily armed and armored infantry. It should have been a one-sided slaughter, but the headlong charge of the skirmishers made the enemy suspect that they had marched into a trap themselves, that somehow their stealthy approach had been detected by our scouts, and that the attack of the skirmishers was a ruse de guerre to fix their attention, to distract them while a blow fell upon them from the rear. Having lost their nerve the enemy disengaged and withdrew to a hillock where they adopted a defensive posture. That was how a force of little more than two hundred saved an army of fifteen thousand men." "Yes, well battles are always more dramatic in the re-telling." Zaldor said, then explained: "Our charge was born from desperation as much as from courage. Having admitted that, I have to say that my men were magnificent. We were outnumbered and poorly armed. That we won was partly because the enemy infantry had exhausted themselves by their forced march. Our hearty cheers and heedless charge unnerved them and shook their confidence. The gaps in their ranks meant we were not facing a shield wall." "Anyway, to make a long story short, our general refused our left flank, which allowed him disengage a regiment and send it to our aid. Then, when the lines stabilized, he sensibly agreed to the enemy commander's call for a parley to arrange a truce to prevent further bloodshed. At that point, neither side was in a position to win a decisive victory. All we could have done was kill each other till no one was left standing. Both sides withdrew to the fortified towns they had set out from. In time the diplomats stitched up a peace settlement which both sides could live with." "Wow! the twins breathed. "So that is how you won the Sword." "Yes, but glory comes at a price. We took thirty percent casualties, killed and wounded. They were men I had known and worked with for three years, men with families or sweethearts or lovers. Some of their names have slipped from memory but not their faces. Wars are terrible things which we would do well to avoid, if at all possible." "True, and just about the best way to avoid war is to prepare for it." Urqaart affirmed. "Then, if war does break out, you are ready. Like my cavalry was ready to counter the flanking maneuver of the barbarians on the Eastern Plains. My regiment was among the first to adopt the stirrup. We trained hard for two years in the new tactics. At the Battle of Annihilation we rode the barbarians down, boots braced in our stirrups, lances couched under our arms, which concentrated the momentum of horse and rider at the tips of our lances. We did more than stop them cold. We ripped right through them." "That charge earned Urqaart the Shield of the Commonwealth." Zaldor noted, then added: "Our real aim out here in the Flatlands is not to fight a war like the ones we served in but to prevent a general war from breaking out. Urqaart and I have both won enough 'glory' to last a lifetime." That evening, the 'young soldiers four' repaired to their quarters, for once more interested in rest than recreation. So their evening shower was just a chance to wash away the sweat and salt and cool down, not the occasion for grab-ass rambunctiousness it usually was. Still nude, the four settled into rattan chairs on the porch to catch the breezes that reached their second storey balcony. "I feel better knowing that our leaders are striving for peace rather than war." Jemsen said. "For my part, I will never forget the horror of the slaughter we inflicted on the eastern barbarians at the Battle of Annihilation. " His twin nodded. "Even though as scouts we ourselves were not in the line of battle, we witnessed the fate of the barbarians from a vantage point in the mountains above the killing ground. Stragglers clambered up the steep slope only to find us in their way. That last look of despair as they realized that escape was impossible will never leave me. I had to steel myself to loose my arrows at them. It is hard to think of men as just targets when you are close enough to smell their fear." Finn nodded, then steered the conversation to other matters. "So what did General Urqaart mean when he said he had been breveted to Corps General, and how many kinds of generals does the Army of the Commonwealth have anyway? "Let me answer that", Drew volunteered. "Before I left the capital I looked over the handouts I had studied during my month long orientation into the military, to refresh my memory of such things. Anyway to answer your question Finn, there are four ranks of generals in the Army. All general officers are addressed simply as 'General' but referred to in the third person by their full rank. Starting with Brigade General, the next higher rank is Divisional General, then Corps General, and finally Army General. "In theory an Army General commands a field army while Corps, Divisional, and Brigade Generals command the units named in their ranks. In practice field armies are much smaller these days. With anticipated reinforcements, the force stationed here will rise to twenty-five thousand, so well short of a corps much less a field army. Nevertheless it is designated the Army of the Far West since it operates independently. " "The higher ranks and units originated during the Formation Wars, when military forces were much larger. It was a time when the our young republic was locked in a death struggle against successive coalitions of dynastic states fighting on the wrong side of history. Today the total strength of our active forces is six-hundred thousand, though not all are combat soldiers, and they are stationed the length and breadth of a commonwealth including in some seven field armies. "Urqaart said he had been breveted to Corps General. What does that mean?" "It is the worst of both worlds: more responsibility without more pay. A brevet is a temporary promotion. It carries rank and prestige but no higher salary. After its designated term, the brevet expires and the officer returns to his permanent rank. Or the brevet promotion can be converted to a permanent one, depending on the officer's performance." "A trial run, then." "You can think of it that way." Chapter 12. New Friends The next morning the young soldiers four woke up early and went out for a run along the cross-country course which looped out into the fields and woods beyond the installation proper. As always the three lightweights ran in the nude while Finn was in short trews and sandals following gamely at a trot. After the run the youths stretched and flexed and worked on their upper body strength. The three lightweights went off by themselves and spent a little time climbing trees and scrambling to the roofs of the buildings till they were ordered down by a spoilsport non-commissioned officer who mistook them for newbies. "What do you recruits think you are doing up there on top of that roof? And why are you all stark naked. Where are your uniforms? Don't you realize this is officer country? You there, Red. What is your name and unit?" "The name is not Red, Sergeant, it is Altair, Ensign Drew Altair, but you may call me Sir for short." "Oh really, you, a commissioned officer, a bare-assed boy who cannot be more than sixteen or seventeen? Those two blonds look to be maybe eighteen or possibly nineteen, which would make them lieutenants, I suppose." "Nope, captains!" "A comedian, eh? Well your sergeants will soon knock the impertinence out of you, youngster." "Ah, sergeant", Jemsen began, "You had better check with the charge of quarters at the unaccompanied officers' barracks. He can establish our bona fides." Sensing that these youngsters were far too confident and self-assured to be wayward recruits and were unembarrassed at being caught out of uniform, in the rude nude actually, the good sergeant did check with the corporal in charge of the barracks who confirmed that 'Red' was indeed Ensign Drew Altair and the blonds were the Captains Sirs Jemsen and Karel, not only genuine officers but knights, and all of them were Holders of the Military Cross for Valor. As one non-com to another, the corporal also said that grapevine had it that the trio were the personal friends of Generals Zaldor and Urqaart. Suddenly all smiles, the good sergeant changed his tune. "So you are officers, after all. Why didn't you say so in the first place?" "Actually, I am sure we did." Karel remarked blandly, but his wink to the others showed he was not put out by the misunderstanding. As the sergeant went off, Karel added. "Not his fault really, the way our enhanced longevity keep us perpetually young and looking even younger than our years. Which goes double for you 'Red', given your diminutive proportions." Drew nodded, adding: "And none of us has a feather on his body, not even at the fork of our legs, thanks to druidic magic which blocks the growth of body hair. This is an old story for me. I know that I fall far short of normal masculine standards in height, muscular development, beard and body hair, and voice register. I'll look sweet sixteen for half a millennium. But being a boy-toy does have its advantages. It sure helps my social life!" The trio walked over to the outdoor showers to wash away the sweat and dust, drying their bodies in the early morning sun. The nude youths drew admiring looks from those of their barracks mates who fancied pretty boys, of whom there were more than a few. Even a certain young officer who did not look at them with lust conceded their attractiveness to his companion: "You know Ian that I consort exclusively with the female half of the species, but looking at these three specimens over there drying themselves in the sun gives me an inkling of why you prefer your own gender." "Thanks, Petr. As an elf, I come by my orientation quite naturally. You are right about that trio. For males of my persuasion, all three are walking wet dreams." Indeed,they were. Of fully human stock Jemsen and Karel were identical twins, young palomino colts whose wiry musculature and strong upper storey evidenced the high level of fitness the boys maintained from archery and all the running and swimming they did. The twins were blessed with fine-boned faces, their heads crowned with cornsilk blond hair. They were of medium height, blond, slender, and incredibly cute. Although young men in their late twenties, the twins looked like teenage boys a decade younger thanks to their parentage and to the druidical healing magic that let them live for half a millennium or more and keep them perpetually young. The smooth glabrous bodies of the scrumptious blond beauties practically glowed with vitality. The effect was incredibly sexy. As for 'Red', Drew was an impossibly cute twink with spiky auburn hair and narrow sideburns reaching below the ear lobe plus straight eyebrows with almost no curve to them. They framed a fine-boned face with a high forehead, chiseled jawline, and a perky nose slightly turned up at the end. Drew was slight in build, standing only five foot zero and weighing but a hundred pounds, yet his tiny frame was easily twice as strong as it looked, enhanced by the same druidical healing magic that had lengthened his life. "It's so unfair that those beauties seem to have eyes only for each other." Ian complained. "Don't be so sure, Ian. As an elf, your exotic looks and slender physique make you quite presentable, not to mention those killer cheekbones of yours. And, from the way he's been checking you out, the little red-head just might be interested in you." "Hush! He'll hear you." Thanks to his enhanced senses, Drew had heard their chatter. The way he suddenly looked over at them gave that away. So Ian's friend Petr called out: "Uh, no offense there, 'Red'. I was just dropping a hint to my shy friend, here." That earned him an elbow to the ribs. "Striking a superior officer? Tut, tut." Drew could see from their easy camaraderie that the young officers were the best of friends. Grinning, Drew introduced himself and the twins. "Ah, our generals' proteges." the one called Ian said to no one in particular. "We heard it on the grapevine." his lanky companion explained. "I am Captain Petr Kwill and my shy friend here is Lieutenant Ian Dentzer, soon to be Captain Dentzer. We both hail from Grayling, which is a town at the head of navigation on the Long River." "Been there twice. Nice town. Fond memories." Jemsen remarked. "We just finished sword practice", Ian explained, quite needlessly since they both carried practice swords and mesh masks and were wearing protective padding. "Would you care to join us for breakfast?" "Sure." A while later, cleaned up and in uniform, the five of them settled down to eat. Petr started the table talk: "I don't know if you newcomers realize this but here in garrison they serve two hot meals a day, with long sitting times to accommodate everyone's schedules. That lets early risers like ourselves chose exercise or training before sitting down to breakfast. So the cooks serve for two hours in the morning and for two and a half in the evening. That doesn't mean you can dawdle over your meals. A bit of chit-chat is fine, but then it is off to work." Jemsen nodded. "We have no problem with that. No one ever called us lazy." "I can believe that with all you have accomplished in the last ten years. You know you guys are living legends in the Army, you and your friends like the firecasters Artor Klarendes and his father Taitos Klarendes, Count of the Eastern March. Plus it was the count's lover, that shapeshifter Aodh, who conceived the vital spy mission to the lands of the barbarians, which led to our ultimate victory. He also invented the fire globes, as we are now calling them." His friend Ian added: "And you twins were the proteges of the late Sir Balandur of Leinster and accompanied him on some of his later adventures. The stories they tell about him! Dread Hand of the Commonwealth indeed! You boys were his lovers too, despite the obvious mismatch in size between humans and giants." "Tell me about it!" Drew commented dryly, then explained: "I never met Balandur myself, but I have a giant of my own for a boyfriend. His name is Finn Ragnarson, and he is around here someplace." "A giant for a boyfriend? For your sake Ian, let's hope that he is not the jealous type." "Oh, very funny, Petr." "Look, here he comes now", Drew said nodding as Finn walked up. "We were just talking about you, Finn. What took you so long?" "I passed by the smithy and had to try my hand at shaping hot metal once again. Fire and steel are in my blood. As a professional courtesy, the master smith let me work on a steel wheel rim. I did a fair job of it too, if I do say so myself. Anyway who are your friends, Drew, and what have you been telling them about me?" "Actually I was just saying to this darkly handsome elf-boy, who rather fancies me, that it is a good thing for him that you are not the jealous type," Drew quipped, winking a cue to Finn. "Oh, but I am!" Finn growled, glaring at Ian with feigned menace till he could no longer maintain the pretense and broke out in a grin. Drew made the introductions. The officers mentioned that they worked in Military Intelligence. Petr ran the scouts, and Ian was the staff cartographer who whipped up the many maps an army requires, explaining: "My gift is an Unerring Sense of Direction, which is a perfect match for cartography. And who would know that better than the twins who invented contour lines, which show elevation or altitude if you will." "You will be interested to learn that I recently developed another use for your contours: a graphical method of determining which parts of a landscape, when viewed from a given vantage point, are masked from observation by intervening terrain features. It involves drawing a terrain profile to scale along a particular azimuth." "That technique helps my scouts select the best vantage points." Petr added then continued with: "During maneuvers a couple of months ago, the opposing force snuck up on our side through low ground my scouts had not taken under observation. Very embarrassing, I can tell you. Our commander chewed me out right royally. My mishap inspired Ian to develop his technique which also shows a commander where he might conceal his own approach or reserves from enemy observation. It's a tremendous tool for an army, at least in an area that has been fully surveyed and mapped, as we have been doing around here these past four years" "You must show us how your technique works," the twins urged in unison. "Me too!" Drew piped. "A new way to use the magical gift which you three share definitely merits an article in my newsletter." "Actually you don't need my gift to use this technique. A compass works just fine for determining an azimuth." Thanks to peculiarities of geology, the magnetic poles of the planet of Haven were very close to its geographic poles and pretty much stayed put, not wandering around the polar regions as on other planets. So the southward pointing needle of a compass indicated true south or close enough for tactical purposes. "Actually I have an article of my own due to be published very soon in the Army Journal. I hope the Guild of Cartographers will accept it as my master piece and promote me to full membership. I am a journeyman now, as are all Army mapmakers. They train us, you see." "Once it's been published, Karel and I can endorse your application. We ourselves are masters in the guild." "Now the Army Journal is fine for getting the word out about your technique," Drew picked up, "but articles in my newsletter also highlight the man behind the innovation. So we'll publish an interview as well." "Hey, I'll take all the publicity I can get. To rise in this man's Army you need to get noticed, for the right reasons of course. As a staff officer, I have little opportunity to prove my courage or my leadership, but if I can help our forces take better advantage of maps and the terrain they depict, I'll have made a significant contribution to our Army." "Ian's invention is why he is getting his captaincy so early. The lad is barely twenty, which is damn young, especially for an elf, when all is said and done." "At twenty-four, my dear friend Petr is starting to feel the full weight of his years," Ian intoned deadpan, drawing a snort from his friend. "Since we are speaking of rank," Ian said, "I wonder why a sergeant like your friend Finn is sharing quarters in officer country. It's fine with me, but probably not with traditionalists, of whom there are more than a few in this man's Army." Drew explained that though Finn's brassards show him to be a non-commissioned officer in the Fyrd, the militia of New Varangia, for this mission he held a concurrent appointment as a temporary ensign in the Army of the Commonwealth. Chapter 13. Sex and other Games That night, Finn graciously bowed out so Drew could spend the night with Ian. "It is very good of your boyfriend Finn to sit this night out." "Well Finn does have the twins to entertain him. All four of us are boyfriends, which makes for a lot of bed-hopping." "I've had lots of boyfriends," Drew explained to the young officer. "I crave variety in recreational sex. But my bond with Finn is about more than physical attraction and sex. Like the twins, Finn is one of my very best friends, someone I have a history with and plan to stay close to for the rest of a very long life. I trust him and the twins implicitly. We have marched off to war together and battled deadly foes. So I know they will always have my back just as I will always have theirs." "In our leisure time, we have a lot of fun together whether playing sports, training and exercising, or just taking meals, talking and socializing. You'll soon see for yourself that the twins are lively chatterboxes, smart, funny, and insatiably inquisitive. Talking to them is both entertaining and educational. Finn is no slouch in the brains department either, make no mistake. Oh he is slower to speak up, but when he does, he is definitely worth listening to." "You are one lucky fellow, Drew Altair, to have made such fine friends. Now enough talk about other boys. Come here!" For Drew taking a new boy to bed added the thrill of discovery to the familiar joys of sex. At least that was Drew's stated excuse for being such a social butterfly. Like all elves Ian was a really good-looking young male, his hair dark and wavy with the fine-boned features and green eyes typical of his race. Standing three fingers taller than the twins, Ian had the willowy physique more typical of the elves than the truncated version of the twins' friend the elf-boy cum druid Dahlderon. With a small head and narrow hips and shoulders he was noticeably more slender than the twins. Thanks to regular sparring and swimming he was quite fit not soft and out of shape as you might expect a staff officer to be. But then he was an elf. For Ian this little auburn-haired beauty was just his type: short and slightly built, impossibly cute, trim and fit, and with a strong streak of exhibitionism. Ian had no use for clothes horses. Rather he liked a boy who didn't care overly much for clothing, a boy who sought any excuse to take his clothes off, or even better, not to climb into his clothes in the first place. Pretty boys really owed it to the world to share their loveliness with males who appreciated the fine lines on a young colt like Drew. Ian envied Drew and the twins. Had Drew really run all the way from the capital to the far border of New Varangia with nary a stitch on the whole time? Had the twins been stark naked for the entire Long March of the Frost Giants? Among his people, the elves, it was called going skin-clad. Alas, as an officer and a gentleman, Ian was bound to comport himself with greater decorum than in his carefree and clothing-free youth. Still here in the Far West, they would all do well to restrain their exhibitionistic impulses. In bed Ian was a versatile lover, experienced in both roles, top or bottom, thanks to growing up in a largely human city rather than one of the secluded elven vales where he would have been expected to bottom for older males for decades at least. In Ian Drew found an enthusiastic partner whose favorite position was seated on a sturdy chair while his partner straddled him, then sat on his lap facing him, and slipped Ian's cock up his quim. The rider then did all the work, posting up and down as if riding a trotting pony. That let the young lovers gaze into each other's eyes, to kiss, and to touch the other boy in all his erogenous zones. To Ian's mind, the hard body of a boy was so much sexier than the soft and yielding form of the female. Boys' bodies were all sculpted muscle and bone and sinew, making for physiques that were strong and athletic and acrobatic. A girl was all take and no give, but a boy could give as well as take and even do both at the same time as when they lay head to toe and sucked each other's cocks. To hold his own with a boy it took another male. No none but another male could know the male body better, especially the manly parts. That was why boys were ever so much better at oral sex and manual manipulation. Boys knew what to do with a cock and what they wanted done with theirs too. That evening Ian and Drew expressed their physical attraction for each other in an energetic, sweaty and vocal crescendo of eroticism, raging hormones, and spunk. After three lively bouts of lovemaking the boys settled into post-coital lassitude and talked about themselves and their lives. Drew spoke of the wars against the centaurs, how at the Battle of the Ravine, he had stood firm with Old Arn and Young Finn in the Breach, thereby winning the rare distinction of Giant-Friend. He spoke with intense satisfaction of his role in wiping out the last infestation of the foul creatures on an expedition to the northern part of the Eastern Plains. He was most proud of using his magical gift to help the local authorities to rescue victims of floods and earthquakes, including a mamma cat and her kittens stranded in the loft of a barn cut off by the flooding. Drew was fond of cats. Stuck out there in the Far West, Ian admitted he was more than a little homesick. He spoke longingly of the town of Grayling. Still soldiers had to expect remote postings during their careers. Ian was satisfied that Commonwealth's presence wasn't an exercise in aggression or imperialism like during the early days of the Formation Wars. The governments here had invited them in. There was a purpose behind what he and his friend Petr Kwill were doing. Besides, Kwill was a link to home. He and Petr had been neighbors and had lived in the same youth lodge as teens. "Anyway Drew, how is it that you are so strong, small as you are? Drew explained how druidical magic had changed his body, bestowing the gifts of longevity, perpetual youth, sharpened senses, doubled strength and stamina, and extraordinary healing and recuperative powers. "So, you are quite the little powerhouse, aren't you, Drew?" "You could say the same about the twins too. Jemsen and Karel were the first of our kind." "More power to all of you. Good luck on your secret mission whatever it is, and don't bother to deny you have one, Drew. I wasn't born yesterday. As a serving officer, I also know that I don't need to be in on what you and your friends are up to. If there is anything I can do to help, just ask." The next day the twins introduced their new friends to the Gemini Zinger, which flew so much better than the pie tins originally used for the sport. "This is genuine Gemini Zinger. We named it the Zinger for its zippy aerodynamic action. Now everybody calls the game 'Zinger' even though that is really a proprietorial trademark, at least in the Commonwealth. Gemini is an old term for twins. The inspiration for the name actually came from Finn." "And while those two have made a fortune off the Zinger, yours truly has not seen a single copper for his contribution to its success." Finn grumbled good-naturedly. "Well we did send you a dozen free Zingers to give out to your friends in Flensborg, didn't we?" Karel reminded him. "Thereby generating a demand for still more Zingers from friends of those friends and from friends of theirs." Finn pointed out shrewdly. "So let's try it out, already." Ian urged them, backing off to put some distance between himself and the others. "Just remember, Drew," Karel cautioned, "No powers!" "Wouldn't think of it." Drew affirmed with an air of injured innocence. "Just the same, kick off those sandals, so you cannot Levitate on us." "Hey, if I was going to invoke my powers, I wouldn't need to Levitate to catch the Zinger, I could simply Fetch it into my hand while standing stock still with my eyes closed. Of course, that would take the fun out of it and be unsportsmanlike to boot, so I won't. Anyway, don't you and Jemsen aim your throws using your gift of Unerring Direction?" "That is something else entirely," Karel argued, then backed off a little. "Well, maybe it's not entirely different, but our gift is not something we deliberately invoke as you do with Fetching. Our gift is not so much a power as part of what and who we are." Nodding to concede Karel's point, Drew not only kicked off his sandals, he stripped to the buff. As a native of the Commonwealth, Drew was comfortable with nudity in public. So were Petr and Ian. Though not natives of the Commonwealth, as elf-friends the twins usually went around 'skin clad' too. As a Frost Giant, Finn was less casual about it as the others, but he was no prude and readily adopted the "uniform of the day", as the Army term had it. Finn and the regular officers had fine bodies all right. At just short of seven feet, Finn's impressive physique was all about size and muscle power. By contrast, as an elf, Ian was lithe and built for speed and agility. Slender and naturally glabrous, the dark-haired beauty was graced with the killer cheekbones and the green eyes characteristic of his race. A deep navel accented the hollow of his belly like a beauty mark. Ian's friend Petr stood two hands taller; his rangy build gave him the advantage of reach, and, though stronger than his friend, he was not so nimble. Considerations they had long ago incorporated into their sword practice. The twins and Drew were something else again. They were all incredibly fit thanks not only to their enhanced vitality but also to regular exercise like running and swimming. Just recently Drew had run the whole way from the Commonwealth's capital city to Flensborg and then joined the twins on their run across the rest of New Varangia to the border with the Flatlands. Talk about hard bodies and sculpted musculature! There wasn't an extra ounce on any of their frames as the delicate tracery of veins on their limbs testified. These kids practically glowed with vitality and sex appeal, their tanned, toned, and taut physiques the envy of lesser mortals. Like Ian, the twins and Drew were entirely smooth, as free from body hair as a marble statue. In Ian's case that was due to his elven heritage. In the case of the twins and Drew it was thanks to druidical healing magic which had permanently suppressed the sprouting of body hair everywhere on their luscious bodies including at the fork of their legs. There was no wiry tangle to conceal the manly parts, no discordant splotch of color at the join of bronzed limbs to bronzed torso. All were reasonably well endowed in that department but not excessively so. Only Finn had what one might call a horse cock, but on him it was in proportion to his size. Just as well for males who were forever running around in the nude with their dangly bits jouncing about. These youths prided themselves on skins uniformly bronzed from constant exposure to the sun, which declared to all who saw them that these boys were not only naked at that moment but went about naked as a matter of course. Finn and Petr kept themselves groomed with elven depilatories, so they had virtually no body hair either. Their skins were not uniformly bronzed but were a patchwork of darker and lighter in areas often covered by clothing. Finn didn't mind tan lines. His folk usually wore clothing, whether it was woolens in their original homeland or silks in the Commonwealth and in their second homeland of New Varangia. Ian remembered his bare-assed youth fondly, when, like so many of his peers, he never bothered with either genital pouch or loincloth even after he outgrew the habitual nudity of childhood. After all, what was the point in having a fine sexy body if you could not show it off? Not just for sports and sweaty work but also to potential suitors, of whatever gender you preferred. As an young elf, what he liked was boys. Smiling at the appreciative way Ian was ogling Drew, his brother, and himself, Karel swept his arms to take in all three bare bodies and declared: "Would you believe, all this and brains too!" Which drew amused snorts from the others. All in all the players were reasonably well matched. They spread out in a rough circle. Soon a lively game was underway. The game was simple. A player sailed the zinger over to the next player who had to catch it before it touched the ground, then pass it on in turn. Tossing the Zinger was not competitive. No points were gained or lost, and no one kept score. If there was an element of competition it was the chance for clean-limbed youths to show off their hard bodies and to display their athleticism and sex appeal. What counted was speed, agility, acrobatic saves and snatches, and tricks liking tossing the Zinger under a lifted leg or even between one's legs or maybe flinging it over your shoulder with your back turned to the next player. Though it was all in good clean fun, the game of Zinger had a definite sexual element. The sport might have been invented for the purpose of displaying the youthful male physique in motion. It set nude youths to running, jumping, lunging, sliding, jinxing, and even diving or tumbling to the grass to intercept the whirling Zinger while it was still in the air before it touched down. Kwill and Dentzer were athletic and fit from regular exercise. Their sword practice had not only built stamina, it had honed their reflexes. So they held their own for a while. The two had the advantage of greater reach than anyone except Finn but were faster and more agile than he was. Still the pair were outshone by the speed and agility demonstrated by the three smaller players. "Hey Karel," Ian shouted across the field, "You said no powers, but you three move faster than should be humanly possible. It's that enhanced strength and vitality of yours that's at work, isn't it." "Yes, but it's not like we can turn it on and off, so it doesn't count as using magical powers." Karel explained. "Uh, huh." Nevertheless, the two officers were good sports about it and gave as good an account of themselves as could be expected against players who were past masters of the game. Indeed, the twins had virtually invented it, improving the original version where players flung an old pie tin. Chapter 14. The Mission Two days later, the generals briefed the young soldiers four on their mission. Attending the meeting were several members of their staffs, including Captain Petr Kwill and Lieutenant Ian Dentzer. The first order of business was a brief promotion ceremony for Ian Dentzer, now officially Captain Dentzer. "Gentlemen," Urqaart began, "as with our newly minted captain here, your mission is about cartography and geographic intelligence. We need you to make us a set of maps of the northern half of the Far West. The ones we have just now won't do, for reasons young Dentzer will explain." Dentzer took it from there: "The governments in lands close to the Despotate of Dzungaria refuse to let our military map makers into their realms for fear of provoking that potentially hostile power. Such maps as we have are from travelogues or itineraries of trade routes rather than proper topographic maps. Most have only the barest indication of topography much less measured elevations and distances. Few are properly scaled and maps of adjacent regions do not articulate with each other, having no common base line or even overlapping features to tie them together." "That is where you come in, Captains Jemsen and Karel, with your gift of unerring direction. We want you to carry out a clandestine geographic survey starting at the most northerly point our Army mapmakers have reached. Only you two could triangulate between high points of ground without the use of chains and instruments. You should also triangulate to other points of interest like towns, bridges or river fords, crests of watersheds, that sort of thing. And make terrain sketches from each vantage point showing landforms, vegetation, and so forth. I don't have to tell you your business." "Karel and I are equipped with one of the new far-viewing tubes which makes distant objects look eight times closer. That will help immensely." "Excellent! I know how useful these tubes can be. We got our own just recently. They are being sent to all military and naval units and to every heliograph station. You don't need a magical gift to use them. They are another amazing invention from the artificers. What will they think of next?" He went on to say: "Our own maps of of the southern regions will provide you with a base line of forty miles for that first triangle. You will take it from there all the way to the border of the Despotate. Do you think you could finish the job in four months?" "That's a pretty tall order with a tight time frame." Jemsen objected. "Still, I can see in my brother's face that Karel thinks we can do it. All right then. "Excellent!" Zaldor said then continued: "Ensign Altair, as a journalist and writer you have shown yourself to be a keen observer and an engaging interviewer, able to draw people out and get them to talk to you. What we need from you is an appreciation of the cultural, social, and political characteristics of the various states in that region." "Does this mean we are going undercover as secret agents?" Drew asked excitedly. Lord Zaldor smiled indulgently at the boyish enthusiasm of the auburn-haired youth. Where men in their middle years saw peril, the young saw only adventure. Perhaps it was better that way. "Yes and no. You will proceed openly and as yourselves without using secret identities or false papers. If anyone asks, yours is a purely commercial project, to extend the coverage of the travelers' maps published by Gemini Enterprises, the firm owned by Captains Jemsen and Karel. At worst, a government might ban you from its territory, but a Commonwealth letter of safe conduct should protect you from any unpleasant official action." "You, Ensign Altar, will travel as the journalist you really are, ostensibly gathering material for descriptive articles for the Capital Intelligencer and for an eventual book. As for you, Finn Ragnarson, I am glad that you volunteered to serve with your friends. In fact, I rather hoped you would. Your job will be security and dealings with locals. As capable as the other three are in a fight, only you, with your size, strength, and weaponry, can dissuade potential troublemakers before they start in." Finn nodded. It was just the role he had assigned himself from the beginning. Persons of ill intent might look on a trio of pretty boys as potential victims, a category to which no one would ever assign a brawny and well-armed Frost Giant like Finn Ragnarson. If his size and muscles didn't dissuade them, then maybe his twelve foot spear, broadsword, kukri, and war hammer would. "Well, now we know why we were picked for this assignment." Jemsen observed to his brother and the others. "After this meeting Captain Dentzer will show you what he has in the way of maps. First though let me lay out our grand strategy for the Far West, so you will know what the Commonwealth is working towards. Understand, what I am telling you is not for everyone's ears." "The Commonwealth is playing a deep game here in the Far West, a double game really. The member states of the alliance called us in to be their protectors from military conquest, hoping that the power of the Commonwealth will either deter the Despotate from military adventures or beat their armies if it came to war. That would allow their elites to stay in power, protected not only from the Despotate and their own predatory neighbors but also from internal threats of insurrection and revolution by their mercenaries." "Yet a guided political revolution is exactly what the Commonwealth wants. The Far West is long overdue for a political and social upheaval. As these states are now constituted, we would not allow them into the Commonwealth. As you know, the Despotate fosters revolution from below via bloody and destructive insurrections of peasants against landlords, the urban poor against the upper class, commoners against aristocrats, and merchants and burghers against the oligarchs. They say that they have to tear down the old social and political structure before building a new one in its place." "Our mission here is to foster a revolution from above, much like what happened in the early days of our republic, when our nobles brought an end to class warfare by shrewdly emancipating their serfs. They also gave up more than half their arable lands to the tillers who worked them. The peasants became yeomen farmers." "With the incentive of ownership they worked their lands more diligently than they had before. Many of the freed peasants did not care for the drudgery of farm life, and since they were no longer tied to the land, they flocked to the growing towns, selling or leasing their acres to their fellow yeoman. These larger farms fostered the development of commercial agriculture to supply the towns taking advantage of the new farm-to-market all-weather roads. The druids helped too by supplying us with new crops and improved plant varieties. Agricultural productivity soared. "The former peasants found jobs in the towns in occupations more in keeping with their talents and interests. New businesses and industries developed. Monetary exchange replaced barter. The supply of precious metals for the coinage expanded as the dwarves dug new mines or opened new shafts in old ones, to supply government mints." The nobles also surrendered their judicial powers to the state and its magistrates and judges. For its sacrifices, the aristocracy got social stability and an even larger fortunes than before. Without the threat of rebellion, the rich no longer had to maintain, at considerable expense, armed retainers to overawe their peasants. Also village and town councils took over the administration of public services lifting that burden and expense from the shoulders of the aristocracy." "Our new style armies consistently defeated old-fashioned armies comprised of mercenary companies, bands of feudal retainers, and hordes of raw levies drawn from the peasantry and urban poor. Also a single professional army was a lot cheaper than the former welter of contending armies totaling many times the size of ours, and its job was made easier by having only a single set of external borders to defend." "The creation of a professional Army backed by a well-trained militia freed the nobles from their obligation of military service. Their old ethic of romantic militarism fell by the wayside, increasingly seen as a relic of a barbarous past." Everyone thereby gained a stake in the Commonwealth. There were no real losers. The nobility got to pursue careers in other fields or to concentrate on improving the lands they retained and worked directly with paid labor. Most had financial assets which they invested in mines, manufactures and new businesses and industries or in real estate development in the burgeoning towns. That created jobs for artisans and business opportunities for burghers. Wealth grew as commerce, manufacturing, and technical innovation flourished." "As the Commonwealth expanded, tax revenues rose but the level of taxation fell thanks to economies of scale. It helped that taxes were no longer wasted on the courts, palaces, hunting preserves, and other extravagances of the former monarchs. Their worst extravagance was the endless round of predatory wars to seize the lands and natural resources of their neighbors." All that laid the foundation for the long term success of our Commonwealth. It is why our state is called a commonwealth instead of a republic, despite having a republican form of government." "How can you make the elites in the Far West accept such changes here?" Jemsen asked. "Make them see that change guided from above is better than losing power to a conquerer or facing a revolution from below." Zaldor answered. "We can cite the example of the Commonwealth itself. Their own maritime republics are already decent societies, when all is said and done, including the southernmost one, the Republic of Brax. You twins helped the druids stop a race war when the usually level-headed citizens of Brax allowed themselves to be stampeded into a pointless war with the Stone Mountain Dwarves." Zaldor's explanation gave everyone a lot to think about and to talk about where they were sure no one would overhear them. As head of scouts and a master of field craft, Petr Kwill would have loved to join the expedition, but the recent retirement of his chief of scouts tied him to his post. His replacement was on the way but would be totally unfamiliar with the region and the men. A couple of days later, Captain Kwill's new head of scouts did arrive. It was none other than Chief Borden. Jemsen and Karel had served under then Sergeant Borden and his boss Chief Wroclaw as scouts in the Army of the Plains, both fine men. Needless to say, the twins were delighted to encounter their old comrade in arms. "It's going on two years since we saw you last Serg... er, Chief Borden." Jemsen said. "That would have been when we passed through Dalnot, the headquarters of the Army of the Plains." Karel explained to the others. "How is Chief Wroclaw anyway?" "Still going strong. The man is indestructible, bless him. He always speaks fondly of you two. His best pair of recruits ever, he calls you." "Still misspelling his own name, is he?" Karel asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. At Finn's puzzled look Jemsen shook his head saying: "Don't ask!" Karel persisted. "Does he still lay that old story on his new recruits about how silk keeps arrow wounds from festering?" "Of course. It's practically his trademark. You twins were only ones who ever caught him out when you asked whether the silk fabric of his trews actually saved the life of the man they pulled the arrow out of so cleanly. How ironic then that it was only months later that you proved him right when he drew that crossbow quarrel out of your rump nice and slick." "Ouch! Don't remind me. I was lucky that crossbow quarrels are tipped with simple points rather than barbed and flattened arrowheads. Still, even if it was just a flesh wound, I couldn't sit a saddle comfortably for weeks and forget about trotting." Karel's listeners clucked sympathetically as he continued: "Whoever invented that gait anyway? Either the saddle slaps you in the ass all the time or you have to post up and down, which is a lot of work. Isn't the whole idea about riding that the horse does the work?" "But Karel, the trot is the working gait for a horse. Horses can canter or gallop only for only a short time before they have to rest, whereas a horse can maintain a trot for hours. The trot is the gait by which horses travel any real distance." "Then they should all learn the amble. Now there's a gait which is reasonably fast and easy on the rider, and the horse can keep it up for a very long time too." Karel countered. "That is true, but few breeds of horses have that gait and very few of those which don't can be trained to it. Trust me. I am a horseman from way back." "If you say so, Chief." Karel conceded. "You might not know this," Chief Borden told the twins, "but we no longer use a fast wagon ride to catch the wind for our kites. These days we simply have a Fetcher lift the kite and rider high up into the sky to catch the stronger winds aloft. Much safer that way. The most dangerous part of scouting by box kite was always the bumpy takeoff when the winds at ground level were weak." "So you have a Fetcher working with you now?" Drew inquired. "We were the ones to try it out. It seems every field army is being assigned a team of magic wielders: a war wizard, a fetcher, and a firecaster. The first cadre of these teams is undergoing training in the capital. These teams will be organic to each field army, that is permanently assigned to it, rather than attached temporarily as war wizards traditionally have been. In time the teams could be increased to five members, with two fetchers and two firecasters. The Commonwealth is really serious about increasing the magical strength of its military, Navy as well as Army. The campaign against the centaurs showed how effective a fetcher and firecaster could be when working together." Drew knew Borden was referring to his own and Artor's exploits but allowed himself only a modest clearing of the throat. "Ahem!" "There is no shortage of recruits." Borden added. "Human magic wielders are eager to sign up for long terms of enlistment in the regular Army or Navy in exchange for enhanced vitality. After all who wouldn't like to be young for five or six centuries with secure and well-compensated employment thrown in? The druids now do the transformation with teams comprised of two lady Healers and one Druid, instead of three druids as in the past. That triples the number of people they can enhance." "Anyway I am glad I got this posting in the Far West. I've always had a hankering for new lands and new vistas." "That's probably why you became an Army scout in the first place." Jemsen observed. "Captain Kwill introduced me to the Army's cartographer, Captain Dentzer, a young elf who is just your type, being elf-friends and all. Maybe you boys should check him out." "Alas, Ian Dentzer is already taken. His new boyfriend is none other than our auburn-haired comrade in arms here, Ensign Drew Altair." "I know your name, young sir, from your exploits in the Second Centaur War and from your books and occasional articles reprinted in our local paper in Dalnot. You are a terrific writer, no doubt about it." Borden said to Drew. "Thanks. I have plans for another volume on the wars against the eastern barbarians. The first covered the role of the Commonwealth, based on research in the archives in the capital plus interviews with prominent figures. For this second volume I hope to do research in the archives of the druids in the Great Southern Forest. The druids Dahlderon, Owain, and Meirionnydd were away on a mission of several years to the eastern continent. Now that they are back, I will ask them for access and also interview them." "You too, Chief Borden since I did not get to interview you for my first book. Let's do it when we get back from our own mission. I'd like to hear what you have to say about the role of the twins in particular." "Fine, sir. I'll give you the lowdown on these young whippersnappers, all right!" Chief Borden assured Drew. That evening, the soldiers four and Captains Kwill and Dentzer shared a convivial meal of welcome for the new chief of scouts. Good food, good wine, good company. Who could ask for anything more? Actually Ian and Drew did get a whole lot more afterwards and without asking, but that is another story. Author's Note This story is entirely fictional, with no resemblance intended to any person living or dead. If you have enjoyed this story and others like it, consider making a donation to the Nifty Archive. It is so easy. They take credit cards. Point your browser to http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html This story is part of an occasional series about the further adventures of the characters introduced in the fantasy novel 'Elf-Boy and Friends' and published by Nifty Archive. The chief protagonist of the novel, Dahlderon, elf-boy and druid, will appear in these stories in a supporting rather than starring role. Each story in the sequence stands on its own, with the focus on one or just a few of the original characters. Readers who like these stories might want to try my two series 'Daphne Boy' and 'Naked Prey' in the Gay/Historical section of the Archive. My 'Jungle Boy' series of Hollywood tales is posted in the Gay/Authoritarian section. The recent series 'Andrew Jackson High' relates the trials and tribulations of five of its gay students. For links to these and other stories, look on the list of Prolific Authors on the Archive. Comments and feedback welcome.