Biserl despised the urik called Tergosa and also hated Tergosa’s
brother, Bergosa, who’d bullied him constantly at school. Tergosa
had taken over that mantle ever since they had joined the legion,
two among countless new recruits.
Tergosa was nothing but an ignorant brute, Biserl mused, just
like his older sibling. Bergosa had recently perished under the hooves
of stampeding wild horses, by all accounts. Not that Biserl had the
slightest shred of sympathy for his old adversary. Now Tergosa
seemed intent on making his life in the legion as miserable as
possible.
There was only one other person currently making his life just
as miserable, and that was his sera, named Gum’bor, known as
Gum’bor the Terrible. Gum’bor was certainly living up to his name,
making the recruits’ life unpleasant and painful. Several of the
recruits had already quit, unable to further endure his endless
torrent of abuse, lashings, and more subtle forms of torture. Biserl
had noticed that Tergosa, who was certainly big and powerful,
seemed impervious to Gum’bor’s unorthodox training methods. But
that made Biserl even more determined to maintain his own resolve.
“Are you completely and utterly useless?” Gum’bor yelled in
Biserl’s ear after another failed attempt to hit the target on the bale
of hay with a spear. “A child could do better than that!” he ranted,
pointing at Biserl’s spear. The spear point had buried itself into the
hay well short of the target.
Biserl tried not to look crestfallen with the other recruits
watching. It was ritual humiliation, with the only consolation that
the others had to endure it, too. But not the big man, Tergosa, who
stood nearby, watching smugly.
“Can anyone here show this dimwit how to throw a spear
properly?” Gum’bor asked, not expecting anyone to step forward.
This would give him further reason to berate his recruits.
“I can,” Tergosa said, stepping towards Gum’bor with his eyes
boring into Biserl.
Gum’bor sniggered. “Well I hope so, because you can’t fight with
a sword, for the love of a whore,” he said, pulling a spear from the
ground.
Some of the recruits laughed. Tergosa did not.
“Silence!” Gum’bor yelled, noting which recruits had laughed.
He would make sure they were not amused later. “Let’s make this
more interesting,” he said, rubbing his pointy chin.
Biserl looked at Gum’bor with dread in his stomach. His fellow
recruit, Muz’ri, had ended up with a spear through his leg the last
time their evil sera had made it more interesting.
“Tergosa, you will throw the first spear,” Gum’bor said, pointing
at the tall, muscular youngster who gave nothing away by his facial
expression—ever.
Tergosa merely nodded.
“Biserl, take careful note of Tergosa’s technique,” Gum’bor
continued, turning to Biserl, who had gone deathly pale. “If you still
fail to hit the target, then Tergosa receives three lashes.”
Biserl looked mortified, while Tergosa’s expression did not
waiver. Biserl hated Tergosa, but he had no desire to be the reason
for another man’s lashing. His mouth suddenly felt very dry, and
realised his hands had started shaking. There was no way he was
going to hit that target. Not only was Tergosa going to get a lashing,
but Biserl feared the brute would kill him later for revenge—once
he could actually walk again without the searing agony across his
back.
Tergosa pulled a spear from the ground while studying the
target on the bale of hay. He tested the spear’s weight and spaced
his feet carefully. Biserl watched in terror, trying to see how
Tergosa’s technique was any different from his own.
“Well, come on, man!” Gum’bor bellowed at Tergosa. “The
enemy won’t wait while you move around like it’s the spring
dance!” He watched the faces of the recruits for further signs of
amusement. There were none, and Gum’bor was disappointed.
Tergosa bent at the knees, and then stretched back with the
spear in his hand before launching it with all the power he could
muster. The spear flew fast, straight, and true . It embe dded itself
cleanly through the target. Tergosa turned and looked at Biserl,
giving him an odd look.
Biserl met Tergosa’s gaze, and he was sure that Tergosa’s eyes
simply said, Miss and I will kill you. The tension he felt was
overwhelming, and he had a sudden urge to release his bowels. But
he ignored it, and focused his mind on hitting that target.
“Okay, Biserl—quick to it!” Gum’bor barked, keen to hurry him
up. The grizzled old sera pulled the whip off his belt and began to
pull the strands through his hand while grinning at Biserl maliciously.
Gum’bor already knew that Biserl was going to miss the target and
that Tergosa was going to feel the bite of his lash, as many others
had before him. Gum’bor saw this as his unique method of teaching
discipline for the hapless recruits. It was his way of honing their
newly acquired skills, and if one recruit didn’t improve quickly
enough, then another was going to pay.
Biserl pulled another spear from the ground with a trembling
hand, and as he did, Tergosa moved to stand in front of him. Biserl
looked at Tergosa strangely, and then realised that he wanted him
to shadow his movements. He nervously imitated Tergosa’s stance
and was about to stretch his arm back for the throw when Gum’bor
suddenly intervened.
“Wait!” the sera shouted at Biserl. “There is another option,
which would spare Tergosa the lash.”
Biserl and Tergosa stared at Gum’bor with equal hatred for the
power crazy, demented sera.
“If you agree to pack you bag and leave now,” Gum’bor said
evenly to Biserl, “then you will spare this worthy recruit a lot of
needless pain.” He looked at Tergosa pityingly.
Biserl looked like he’d been punched in the face.
“Well?” Gum’bor asked gleefully. “What do you say, man?”
Biserl looked at Tergosa, giving serious thought to dropping the
spear, grabbing his bag, and running for home. But to Biserl’s
amazement, Tergosa winked at him and stretched his arm back,
pretending he had a spear ready to throw. Then he looked at Biserl,
his eyes demanding that he carry on.
There was something about Tergosa’s look that spurred Biserl
on. Gum’bor was simply another bully, but a bully that perhaps even
the mighty Tergosa feared. Perhaps Biserl and Tergosa had
something in common after all.
Biserl stretched his arm back, trying not to grip the spear too
hard as he did. It needed to be loose enough for a smooth release,
yet firm enough for control as it flew. He watched Tergosa release
his invisible spear, watched as he gave the slightest flick of his wrist,
and almost graceful lift of his back foot.
Biserl released a breath and threw the spear, imitating
Tergosa’s flick of the wrist while carefully raising and balancing his
back foot. Biserl’s eyes widened in surprise as his spear flew
straight and true , hitting the target with such force the end of the
spear disappeared into the bale of hay.
“Bravo!” one of the recruits shouted, and was soon joined by the
others.
“Silence!” Gum’bor yelled, clearly annoyed. This wasn’t going
how he intended at all, so now he would have to teach both of them
a hard lesson.
Biserl was grinning so hard that he thought his face might split,
but it vanished before he could take his next breath. “Cheats!”
Gum’bor screamed, pointing an accusatory finger at Biserl and
Tergosa in turn. “Shadow throwing was not part of my instructions,
so both of you will be punished.”
“What?” Biserl exclaimed in protest, while Tergosa showed no
reaction at all.
“Hold them!” Gum’bor bellowed, and the recruits had no choice
but to obey.
The recruits grabbed Biserl and Tergosa, pulling them towards
the poles that were used for sword practise. They were quickly
stripped of their shirts and made to face a pole. Their hands were
tied around the poles, using the sleeves of their shirts.
“Brace yourself, boys!” Gum’bor said to Biserl and Tergosa,
ready to unleash his whip. “Just three lashes each. That’s all, lads—
just enough to teach you that old Gum’bor’s every word must be
obeyed. It will serve you well in battle, when you’re pitched against
the scum of the Analay’Sai Kingdom!”
Biserl could just see Tergosa’s face pressed against the pole, his
eyes defiant and strong. But there was something else. It was
vengeance, Biserl realised, as the first lash of the whip bit into his
back, lacerating his flesh. He managed not to scream, despite the hot
agony, and watched as Tergosa received the same blow. The big
man squeezed his eyes shut, but also remained silent. Biserl thought
of vengeance as Gum’bor brought the whip against his back again,
knowing that the vengeance he saw in Tergosa’s eyes was not
against him, but for Gum’bor, a vengeance that Biserl shared.
Oddly, the third lash was the least painful, and Biserl was
tempted to scream defiantly for more. Some rational part of his
brain stopped him before the words left his bloody mouth. He’d
bitten into his tongue during the lashing, and he spat out the blood.
“Well done, boys!” Gum’bor said excitedly. “Well done indeed!
Now get them down—get them down!”
Biserl felt the recruits untie his hands, but then his head swam
and everything faded to black as he passed out. When he came
around, he was lying prone and someone had attended to his
wounds. He tried to move, but the pain rippled over his back like a
rolling hot poker.
“Stay still,” a gravelly voice told him. “Let the ointment do its
work.”
Biserl turned his head and saw that it was Tergosa who had
spoken to him. He was similarly lying face down on a bale of straw
not far away.
“The pain will soon pass,” Tergosa added, and then winced, as if
his own words reminded him of the bloody lacerations.
Biserl wasn’t sure how to respond, so made an idle joke that he
instantly regretted. “I guess you’re used to lashings in your family.”
“Aye,” Tergosa replied, not seeming to take offence. “Three
times for thieving and once for fighting . Mind you, Bergosa has the
record.” Tergosa gave a pained laugh, and then looked sad.
“I’m sorry about your brother,” Biserl said, although he didn’t
really mean it. As far as he was concerned, it was payback for the
years of abuse he’d suffered from Tergosa’s brother.
“Not many are,” Tergosa said soberly. “In many ways, his untimely
death was a blessing, which probably spared him from a worse fate.”
Biserl wondered what could possibly be worse than being
trampled to a painful death by stampeding wild horses. He decided
it would be wise not to say so. “I suppose you intend to kill me,” he
said instead, surprised at his own frankness.
Tergosa stared at him with unreadable eyes. “Bergosa was
wrong about you,” he finally said. “But he was wrong about a great
deal of things. I intend to right some of those wrongs.”
Biserl stared at Tergosa not really understanding what he was
saying. “So you’re not going to kill me?” he asked again, his eyes wide.
Tergosa gave a rare smile. “No, I’m not going to kill you.”
“Well, that’s good,” Biserl said wryly, trying to get comfortable,
but instead inviting a fresh wave of pain. “I can look forward to
more of Gum’bor’s bullying,” he added, wincing.
“You really should remain still,” Tergosa said again, “and the
pain will subside.”
“Yes, you already said,” Biserl snapped, surprising himself. He
imagined Tergosa beating him to a pulp for his insolence when they
were back on their feet. He was astonished to hear Tergosa chuckle.
“Listen, Biserl,” Tergosa said at barely above a whisper. “When
we get out of here, I have a plan that will get rid of old Gum’bor once
and for all.”
“You do?” Biserl asked, intrigued at the idea of getting rid of the
sadistic old sera.
“Yes,” Tergosa affirmed. “It’s kind of a goodbye present from
Bergosa.”
Biserl frowned. “But you just said that Bergosa was wrong
about many things! Please don’t tell me Bergosa intended to kill
Gum’bor.”
“No, not kill him,” Tergosa said, “more like moving him somewhere
else.”
Biserl liked the idea of him. “So you mean kidnapping him or
something?”
Tergosa looked thoughtful as a bead of sweat ran from the side
of his temple into his eye. He didn’t want to move, so just blinked his
eye until it was clear. “Not kidnapping—more of a relocation,”
Tergosa replied slyly.
Now it was Biserl who looked thoughtful. “And how exactly are
you planning to do that?”
“Bergosa had some contacts with the Hungi,” Tergosa said. “We
can pull in a favour or two which will see to it that Gum’bor is an old
problem.”
“Sounds good,” Biserl said, unsure if Tergosa meant the Hungi
would kill Gum’bor or not.
“They won’t kill him,” Tergosa said, as if reading his mind.
“They’ll just have some fun with him for a while.”
Biserl refrained from asking what having some fun actually
meant. He heard about the Hungi and their idea of fun from friends
who had stumbled onto a Hungi settlement only two anni gone.
“Please tell me more about your plan,” Biserl said, closing his eyes to
listen.
Tergosa explained his plan as softly as possible, but in the most
intricate detail. By the end of it, Biserl was convinced that it could
work.
“So, you need me to make it work?” Biserl asked, realising he
had become a substitute for Bergosa. Not only would they be rid of
Gum’bor, but Biserl would have gained a considerable amount of
the king’s coin for his empty pockets, due to an anonymous third
party that also wished to see the removal of the old sera.
“Yes,” Tergosa replied.
“Um,” Biserl responded noncommittally.
So then, are you in or out?” Tergosa asked, an edge of impatience
to his voice.
Biserl opened his eyes and looked at the man who was going to
be his new friend. He had the strangest notion that they were going
to have many adventures together. “Count me in, Terg,” Biserl
answered him with a smile.
