Jonis - Rowan Erlking (web based ebook reader .TXT) 📗

and followed the lieutenant out of the room.

Marching from the administration building to the west clearing, Jonis saw the new recruits lining up to enter through the door with the demon circle.

Three months ago they actually caught a man that was inhabited by a spider demon parasite when he passed through that circle. They found the thing attached to the man’s back under his shirt. The man was already dead, but walking like he was alive. They had to clear the building so no one else would be harmed, and Jonis had been called from the doctor’s office to kill it. But trapped in the demon circle, the demon spider could not get away. To kill it, Jonis had to stab the spider in the back while it was still attached to the man. The body was infested with its babies. Burning the corpse was a problem though. Jonis had to draw a fire ward around the demon circle to keep the doorway from burning down. That was when another man bolted, heading for the woods. Jonis chased him down and killed the spider demon that inhabited him. Both fires burned until the end of the night. Since then, the younger set of recruits skirted away from him whenever they saw him in the camp.

Sighing, Jonis continued to walk to where his troop stood at attention. He took his place next to Emrit and thrust out his chest. Lt. Ballis marched before them, holding a box full of yellow envelopes.

“You men, you brave and bold men, are now worthy to enter the Brein Amon army. I have here your orders and stations where you will serve. When you leave this camp, you will no longer be known as Recruit, but as Private.” The lieutenant smiled broadly, ignoring Jonis as if he were not there. “When I call your name, come forth and receive your assignment. Then resume you place in line. Abernay, Remal. Fugid, Temis. Greenwal, Julwes….”

Each man stepped forward and took his envelope. They marched back to their places, not opening them—though the temptation was huge.

“Yarran, Emrit. Gabbert, Korin. Lynus, Wiltis. Sipes, Oprin….”

Jonis felt mouth go dry. With each man getting his orders, it still left him waiting anxiously. Would they send him to some remote dung heap as some of his fellow recruits assumed, or would they put him somewhere so he could be constantly watched? Of course, there was always the chance that they might keep him in camp. It was a contained area, and Jonis was not sure they trusted him out in the real world.

“Macoy, Jonis,” the lieutenant called.

His heart jumped. Jonis stepped forward and took the envelope held out to him. Looking to see the lieutenant’s eye to get a clue as to where he might be, he saw nothing but the averted calm gaze of the man.

“Lanis, Cyle. Wendrid, Poul….”

Jonis marched back to his place. His fingers itched to break the seal on the paper. He held it to his side, trying to control his racing heart and excited breath.

“And Letrid, Fronk.” The box was empty. Lt. Ballis gazed at the troop with a smirk. “Those that did not get their assignments today will join Troop Black. You are instructed to remove your things from your boxes. Be in the administration building at sixteen hundred hours. Dismissed.”

The men looked around to see who did not get their papers. Two men stared abashed at the ground, muttering that the process was rigged. One glared at Jonis.

“Well, open it!” Emrit said, approaching Jonis at once. “Where are you going?”

Jonis burst out laughing. “What about your own assignment? Aren’t you curious about that?”

“We all want to know where you are going, Cordril,” Oprin said with a smirk. He had been much kinder since the death of Sgt. Hybiss. The worst he ever called Jonis these days was ‘Cordril’.

Shrugging, Jonis lifted his envelope and pried the paper open with his fingernails. He stuck his hand in, extracting the two papers inside. The first was the typical acceptance sheet from the Patriarch of Brein Amon that they all had. It listed his rank as Private and named the place where he would be stationed. Jonis read that part out loud. “You are assigned to serve at post fifty-eight, in the city of Ladis.”

“Ladis,” Julwes murmured. “That’s right on the southern border. Dangerous country.  You are being sent right into where the action is.”

“Lucky,” Korin said.

“Not lucky,” Emrit countered. “Apparently they have work for him. I heard rumors that there is a plague on the border. I think they are desperate need of a magister.”

Jonis nodded, drawing out the second paper. It was his specific orders. He silently read them. Stopping on the crucial spot, he read it aloud. “You’re right. It says, I will report directly to Captain Powal to assist in their present crisis. Apparently the plague has reached the city.”

The men sighed and stepped back. Regardless of what Emrit had said, they all felt Jonis was more fortunate than they would be. His path, they believed, led to recognition and glory. However, unlike them, Jonis cared for neither. Yet he looked at his assignment and smiled, knowing his magister skills would be put to use. And regardless of being in the army, he would still be a magister after all, fulfilling Mr. Farren’s wishes.

 

Everyone packed then hauled their few belongings to the administration building. There they caught sight of the tail end of the new recruits passing through the doctor’s examination. Ordered to strip and take their new uniforms, Troop Gold traded their old ones in. Their new ones were three-piece with a monochromatic jumper and a matching jacket. Lt. Chappel exchanged their old tags for new ones. Jonis still had three tags. But examining his, Jonis smirked, reading the title Private Macoy with satisfaction. His village patriarch would have been proud.

Pulling on his new uniform, Jonis adjusted the crisp cuffs to his jacket, making sure the jumper underneath fit well. He pulled the pant legs over his boots, smoothing them out. Lt. Chappel handed him two pairs of gloves. “You’ll need these.”

Taking them, Jonis bowed. “Thank you, sir.”

The lieutenant pulled close, hissing. “And if you tell anyone about me and the worm incident, so help me, I’ll get you for it.”

Blinking first, Jonis then snorted. “Don’t worry about that. I’d sooner forget the entire thing. I could barely eat noodles for a month after that.”

Lt. Chappel stood up.

“Good.”

He spun on his heels and went back into the main office.

After adjusting everything, the men waited at attention in a line near the doors. Gen. Gomrey came in with the lieutenant later, performing one final inspection. He maintained a stern face, going from one man to the next. Most he nodded approvingly on, but once he had to warn Temis to adjust his belt and shirt so it looked less sloppy. He passed Jonis with a pleased eye and went onto the end.

Turning, he said, “You are now ready to enter the Brein Amon army. Privates, accept your swords.”

This was the honor they were waiting for. A corporal came in, carrying each sword in his arms, with the help of another. The general handed each soldier his sword, saying the same thing: “Serve the Sovereign with honor.”

He affixed the sword on the man’s belt and continued to the next man. The ceremony took a long time. Many of the men at the end of the line waited anxiously but remained at attention. Jonis’s heart thumped in his ears. When the general handed him his sword and said, “Serve the Sovereign with honor,” he felt a surge of excitement. The general fixed the sword to Jonis’s belt and continued down the line, even to the end.

Time moved faster once the general had passed him. Jonis felt the weight of the weapon on his right hip. Shivers ran up and down his arms.

“Now, Privates, go forth and serve.” The general smiled, nodding once to Jonis.

“Left face!” Lt. Chappel shouted.

They turned with precision.

“Forward, march!”

They marched through the door they had entered a year ago, exiting out into the gravel clearing. There, a new military bus waited for them. Gold Troop marched out and up into the bus, taking their seats with militaristic silence. The doors closed. The driver revved up the engines, listening to the steam pass out of the pipes. Jonis looked out the window and watched as the general grinned at them from the door. They pulled out, leaving the camp behind.

Jonis looked back, and for the second time felt like he was leaving home.

“I can’t believe it! We are really on our way!” Oprin shouted as soon as they were rolling down the road through the forest. This vehicle went much smoother than the police van that had brought Jonis there. He also noticed that it went faster.

Many of the other men cheered.

Jonis sighed and leaned back in his seat. It was not banishment, but going to something else. It was a turn for the better.

Their bus rumbled along the forest road. Its engine frightened off the rabbits from the road. The trees stirred, with black birds rising like a cloud. They flapped over the domed hood to the bus, some diving along side it, scattering for a safe perch. Jonis had not taken his eyes off the diminishing camp, watching the shadows increase under the trees from the closed window, as the air was still cold from that winter. One bird flapped too close. It nearly slammed into the window Jonis was staring out of.

He jumped back.

Clutching his chest, his heart raced. Jonis could have sworn he saw abnormally intelligent eyes glare back at him from that crow. Instinctively, he clutched his new military rapier, drawing it out halfway.

But the bird cloud fluttered off, and that beady stare was gone. 

“What was bugging you?” Emrit asked.

Deciding not to alarm them, Jonis shook his head. “I just thought I saw something. I was mistaken.”

 

The bus drove into Yarrding, the town not far from Dalis Camp. There the driver stopped and let out the first load of men. They gathered their bags and marched to the other posts at the public bus depot. Jonis remained on the bus with several others to ride the rest of the way to the nearest city—Mistrim. In Mistrim, they stopped at the train station first. The rest were let out at the airport. As they stepped off onto the stone curb of the far end of the city near the gates, the bus driver handed them their military passes that allowed them to fly for free. When he gave Jonis his, he hung on with a glare, as if meaning to make the Cordril fall. But as soon as he let go, he hurried back onto the bus to make wide distance between him and Jonis forever.

“Choose your flight and go to your posts. Report in immediately. The speed of your arrivals will come to the attention of the Patriarch,” the military driver instructed. He revved up the engine and closed the door without listening to questions.

The men stared after him until he was gone around the corner.

“What now?” one of the men said.

“I’ve never ridden an airplane before,” Temis muttered. “What if I get lost?”

Jonis shrugged and looked around. “Let’s stick together and read the signs. I’m sure we’ll be able to find our way around.”

The other men nodded. There were seven of them left. Oprin and Julwes had taken a train. Korin and Emrit had gone as soon as they reached Yarrding. Cyle and Temis were the last of Jonis’s friends with him, and they were just as lost as Jonis felt. The country village was not as nice as Mistrim, which had electric lamps, street lights, and the most up-to-date plumbing—including a fountain that spouted water like clockwork. And the airport was like something out of another time—including the enormous dirigibles, and the latest airplanes. 

“It is like a cathedral,” one of the men murmured, staring at the enormous clock over