The Jungle Frontier: A "The Novice" Tribute Story

Part 2: Odd Surroundings

The thick mud and dense foliage of the winding road up the mountain made Dustan's trek less than simple, and he focused on what the journey so far had been.

Their convoy had been travelling for days, stopping only at night to rest. Across the war torn plains surrounding Vocans, the battlemage academy, Dustan and five other mages his age had travelled and eventually joined up with the large convoy of regular soldiers and were under orders to aid them in maintaining and defending a sentry base in the jungle. Dustan was almost thankful for the harsh terrain and heavy rains that had slowed them greatly as they crossed the border river and entered the jungle hours earlier. He was not keen to die defending a base guaranteed to fall to the Orc hordes.

A few of the more confident soldiers and battlemages were boasting, talking of how they would triumph on the battlefield, placing bets on who would kill the most orcs in their first battle. Others were less confident, trying to hide their fear by joining in with the more popular recruits, only to get mocked and ridiculed to their faces.

Others were like Dustan, the ones who did not join in on conversation. Who carried grim determination. Many were simply terrified, or were the recruits who had seen the terror of the orcs before...

Dustan froze. Images of his past flashing through his mind. Screams of terror mixed in the air with the unearthly cries of the Orc war beasts. The searing heat. His lungs choking on smoke and ash. The chilling cold feeling of rain and dewy grass as he lay, unable to move.

A shout woke him from the flashback. It was some of the solders from the side of the muddy road. They were jeering at the new recruits. At him. They probably thought his sudden stop was caused by fear. In a way it had been. But he wasn't going to give them the satisfaction.

His demon Moss, feeling Dustan's discomfort, tensed up. The spines along the Barkling's back quivering, ready to shoot out and spear anything. Dustan sent out his thoughts to calm the demon and it slowly relaxed. The demon's somewhat stubby legs sank deep into the mud as it tried to keep up. Dustan decided to give the demon a break and kneeled down, letting Moss climb up onto his back and the inquisitive demon perched on his shoulders as he stood up. Dustan stopped to pull a large bunch of leaves of a nearby bush and began feeding the leave to the Barkling, who inhaled the greenery into his ridged, toothless mouth.

Dustan trudged on while feeding the demon on his shoulder, brushing his hands through his hair which was both brown, blonde and grey at the same time, reminding him of dry grass or spinifex. His saltwater coloured eyes scanned the jungle, which he had to admit was absolutely breathtaking. The great savannah order mountains and temperate hills lay to the far west. The valleys where Orc concentration was strongest Dustan was told.

To the lands to the east, between Dustan's location and the great Akhad desert, were jungles of much flatter topography, but with the lone spire of black stone and green foliage every now and then. These strange lonely mountains having no reason to be there, yet existing anyway. The air was thick, damp and humid but Dustan, having grown up in the southern plains, was used to such conditions, albeit not as intense as the conditions here in the jungle. 

Through the jungle they trekked on, joined by the solders who had been waiting by the roads. After another two minutes they arrived in the camp. Squat low in the mud were a collection of one-story bamboo huts and buildings with roof's of tightly woven grass, a makeshift perimeter of rough walls and haphazardly arranged cannons surrounded the encampment. This was to be their home.

The solders who had been following them began to stream into a large building that Dustan assumed was the mess hall. The smell of cooking meat and vegetables wafted from the open windows along with the sounds of plates and bowls clattering together and the loud shouts and cheers that seemed to be how seasoned soldiers communicated with each other.