Glyph

Chapter 19

As he and Cordan walked back into camp together, they noticed it was deserted.

"Where is everyone?," Dirk asked.

Cordan frowned. "Beats me."

"Well maybe-" Dirk's mouth formed a round "O" of shock as realization dawned on him. " Crap!," he exclaimed.

Cordan looked at him, quizzical. "What?"

"It's a Saturday," Dirk explained. "That means battle practice. We need to be at the parade grounds!"

"Crap!," Cordan agreed.

Without a word, they turned and ran down the path to the parade ground.

***

Lucky for them, just as they arrived was when Lieutenant Seral decided to call the Third Company together.

"Company, form up!"

As the morass of men grouped on the parade ground shifted into smaller squares of organized men, Dirk and Cordan were able to find their squad and slip in position. 

Bridds turned to glare at Dirk. "Where were you two?," he whispered.

Dirk cleared his throat. "We, um....Shh, they're giving the brief," Dirk whispered back pointing toward where Seral and Aetil, mounted on horses, spoke.

Bridds faced front again.

"Third Company," Aetil was saying, "Tonight we have been ordered to fight Ninth Company. And we shall defeat them! We must arrive at the training grounds in one hour. Quartermasters with equipment stand ready to the side. Outfit yourselves and reassemble when I order."

"Yes, Captain," the company shouted in unison.

"Dismissed." Quickly, the ordered ranks dissolved into many individuals struggling to reach the sides. Dirk did his best to fight his way through the uniformed mass to get to his right.

When he finally arrived at the quartermasters, separated by the soldiers by a rope, the man asked in a bored tone, "Name?"

Corporal Dirk Glyphwarden, 16th squad," he gasped.

While the man looked through his sheaves of paper, Dirk bent over trying to catch his breath. The lungs of the troops had acted like a vacuum on his lungs, an effect exacerbated by the physical effort of pushing through.

The quartermaster grabbed some leather armor sitting ready on one of the tables and thrust it at Dirk.

"Here," he said. "This oughta be in your size. Put it on." 

Undoing the straps, which seemed fairly straightforward to him, Dirk placed the main part on his chest, over his uniform, and retied the straps.

Lifting his arms, he withstood the scrutiny of the quartermaster, who nodded briskly. "Great. Here are some vambraces. Strap them on, too. And hurry up," the quartermaster added.

Moving fast, Dirk strapped the pieces of armor to his forearms.

Gesturing with his papers to a table filled with the wooden practice weapons found in the training grounds. "Grab a sword and get outta the way," the quartermaster snapped, shoving a torch into his hands, which dirk promptly tucked into his belt. "There are more soldiers."

Jogging over to the indicated pile, Dirk looked through it, along with several more men nearby. He quickly found a solid looking weapon that resembled the type he was used to.

Tucking it quickly into his belt, he hurried off to the side and watched as the groups of men waiting their turn for outfitting grew smaller.

When enough time had passed and sergeants were starting to gather their squads, Dirk wove through the crowd looking for his own sergeant.