Mercenary of Lastia - BtLH - Ch 42 (Patreon)

Lys arrived at the skirmishers’ camp area. Apprehension bit at her, but the only thing to happen was that Sergeant Tilledge greeted her with a curt nod and pointed to an empty spot near the edge of the tents. “Set up your tent there, Trekhill.”

She nodded and got to work. Pitching her tent was simple enough. She had done it hundreds of times by now.

It was a new issue, her old one having burned. The canvas felt rough against her fingers. Her older one had been a little nicer. Hopefully, this one would do well enough to keep out the rain.

A short while later, Tilledge called them out for a meeting. “Listen up,” he said. “Trekhill here will be working and training with us for the rest of the siege.”

The rest of what he had to say turned into minutiae, and then they were all released. Lys frowned, not sure what she was supposed to do. Swift always ordered them about? It seemed like they were all expected to just know what to do without any direction.

Dax stepped forward. “I heard how bad it was for the recruits,” he said, his voice low. “You doing okay, Trekhill?”

She swallowed hard, fighting down everything that summoned. “I’m hanging in there.”

He introduced her to the others, and then they went for a brief run around the camp. Because some type of exercise was expected of them. She remained quiet and listened to them for breakfast, and then by mid-morning, she followed the group to assemble outside the tents.

Tilledge arrived a few minutes later, his gaze sweeping over the assembled men. “The cohort will be assaulting the Rusty Lathes camp in a few days. We need to prepare.”

Private Cole raised his hand, his brow furrowed with concern. “How are we going to attack, Sergeant?”

Tilledge shook his head. “I don’t know how the cohort will attack, but I know what we’re supposed to do.”

Private Lark groaned, his shoulders slumping. “It’s going to be bad, isn’t it?”

Tilledge chuckled. “It could be worse. We’re going up.”

The skirmishers let out a collective groan, their faces etched with resignation. Lys just frowned. Going up where? What?

“Not ours to reason why,” Dax said, his voice filled with a quiet determination.

Tilledge nodded. “You know what and why—we’re climbing up and getting shots for the assault.”

Lys blinked, confusion washing over her. “Climbing up?” she asked, her voice hesitant. “There isn’t anywhere above the hill except the mountain, and it’s a sheer cliff...”

The regulars burst into laughter.

When they explained to her what they were going to do, she wasn’t sure why they were laughing. It was insane.

“First things first,” Dax began, holding up a coil of rope. “This is your lifeline. We’ll be tying ourselves together, so if one of us slips, the others can catch them.”

Cole nodded, gesturing to a set of metal spikes. “These are pitons. We hammer them into the rock to create anchor points for the rope.”

Lark held up a pair of oddly shaped picks. “And these are your climbing tools. The curved end is for hooking onto ledges, and the pointed end is for digging into cracks.”

Lys watched as they demonstrated the proper techniques. Dax showed her how to tie a secure knot, his fingers making it look easy. Cole hammered a piton into a nearby boulder, the metal ringing with each strike.

“We’ll be leading the way,” Dax explained, his voice reassuring. “You just need to follow our path and use the anchors we set. Don’t worry about finding your own way up.”

She shook her head. “I’ve never done this before and we are doing it in the dark? How are we even going to do anything once up there?”

“There’s a ledge we need to get to,” Cole said, as if that explained anything.

Lys swallowed. “Can… can I go back to the recruits? I don’t like this.”

The three skirmishers shared a look then Dax shook his head gently at her. “You could try asking the sergeant, but… It probably wouldn’t go well.”

“I just… I haven’t had any training or practice about this, and now you want me to climb up a sheer fucking cliff, in the pitch-black of night, to shoot the enemy from above, on a fucking ledge?” Lys blinked, surprised at her own vehemence.

“Yeah, that’s about right. Not the smoothest introductions, but as skirmishers, we usually do the crazy shit,” Dax replied.

“What about the gear? How are we going to have anything to shoot with?” she asked.

The three idiots began to grin. “We’ll be carrying everything we need,” Cole said, patting his own pack. “Food, water, extra rope, and some basic medical supplies, just in case.”

Lys shook her head. “This is like suicide,” she muttered. She looked toward the enemy camp. From far away, the cliff looked impossible. Somehow, she didn’t think that getting closer was going to help that impression.

Dax nodded. “It’s pretty dangerous, for sure.”

“Is it even worth it?” Lys asked, her voice tinged with doubt.

Cole stepped forward, following Lys’ gaze toward the mountain. “There are some ridges up there that will work well enough once we’re in position,” he said. His voice was filled with confidence. “The hard part is getting up without being seen. Then waiting for the attack.”

Lark chimed in. “If we don’t win, we’ll be stuck up there and fucked if we need to come down with the Irongians shooting at us.”

“That’s not helping,” Lys said with a grimace. “I don’t know if I signed up for this.”

Dax laughed. “Well, you had the luck to be good with a bow and thrown in with us,” he said. “Someone obviously has high hopes for you.”

“Or wants me dead,” Lys countered.

“One thing to note. We skirmishers get the worst jobs in the entire company. The only ones close to having to do the shit we do are the scouts,” Cole said.

Lys tilted her head. “Why would the scouts be worse?”

Lark laughed. “They get the same shit jobs we do, but have to do them alone,” he said.

The entire mission was too much, and she wanted to get off the subject. No doubt she was going to be drilled and have her head stuffed with it more before they did anything. There was something she wanted to know, and the crew seemed to be in a question answering mood.

So she looked at Dax and changed the subject. “What’s it like at Dragonblanc?”

Dax sat down on a log, causing the others to follow suit. “It can be a real intense place, but it’s big, and there’s a lot of help you get. Everyone in the town is part of the company in one way or another. That makes it a lot more close-knit than your standard town,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet intensity. “The real training starts there. The stuff you recruits have been doing is getting you ready for that.”

Lark nodded quietly.

“But your group has been out longer than most,” Lark added. “Maybe not so bad for you.”

Lys let out a tense breath. “Losing a third of our group isn’t bad?”

“Ah… I didn’t mean it like that,” Lark mumbled. “Sorry.”

“Recruits normally aren’t put in a fight,” he said, his gaze flickering to Lys.

“I keep hearing that, but we were, and we weren’t ready,” Lys pointed out.

Dax nodded. “Yeah. Someone dropped the ball on that for sure. Not sure why they aren’t just sending you lot back now.”

Cole looked up toward the Irongian camp. “I don’t think they’ll be putting up much more of a fight. Might be better this way, getting part of the loot?”

Lys shook her head, disbelief etched on her face. “They’re sending me up a cliff, literally,” she said, her voice strained. “With you guys.”

“That’s the reward for a good job,” Dax said. “Another job.”

She talked with them for a few hours; the conversation drifting between subjects but always landing on the climbing and instruction. For all the work the recruits were put through, talking with the skirmishers was almost laid back. But there was a quiet intensity to it that told her it would be made up for what they had to do later.

The next day was more intense, with the group fitting her with equipment and gear she barely knew the use of.

She was feeling familiar with the theory of it by the end of the day, as they showed and instructed her and what she would be doing a dozen times over, but she wasn’t sure it was a suitable replacement for experience.

Especially since the first time she’d actually be using it was in the dark.

The next evening the camped buzzed with activity, men hurrying about to prepare. The attack would come with the next dawn. Even though everyone she saw appeared to be attempting to act nonchalant, it seemed obvious that something was up.

She just hoped whatever sharp-eyed Irongian that had spotted the recruits had died in their sally.

“Trekhill, over here,” Dax called, waving her over to the skirmishers’ equipment tent. Inside, the others were busy working on the lines, their hands moving with practiced efficiency.

The others suited her up, not leaving her anything to do but stand and feel awkward. As the harness tightened around her, the straps felt foreign and a tension tightened in her gut telling her that this was a terrible, terrible idea.

She stepped outside for a moment as the sun disappeared below the horizon. Siege ladders were being packed behind the outer wall. Another sign of the impending assault.

“Fresh arrows,” Dax announced behind her as he lugged in a large bundle into the tent. “We need to break these down into smaller sections to fit in our packs.”

Lys watched as they divided the arrows. “How much of our weight will be arrows?” she asked.

Dax paused, his expression grim. “Half our packs,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “We’ll be doing a lot of shooting up there.”

Lys swallowed hard, the reality of their mission sinking in.

She looked over at the cliff behind the Irongian camp. It was really high up.

Where they really going to go up that? In the dark?

What kind of messed up shit had she gotten into now?

More importantly, how did she stop it happening again in the future? She needed to ask what company had it the easiest. Maybe she could be a cook?