Garrison (a military fantasy novelette)
3.5/5
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About this ebook
GARRISON
On the contested Iron Flats, two young recruits face their first battle. Will they die? Will glory cover them or ignominy taint their name? Only the morrow will tell.
Watching over them is enigmatic veteran, Von. He knows that when soldiers fail, the army relies on veterans to fix them... whatever it takes...
Starship Troopers meets archers and spider-cavalry in this military fantasy novelette from Greyhart Press, written by an author who served in the Armed Forces.
Nigel Edwards
Born far too many years ago, Nigel now live in Milton Keynes, middle England, with his good lady wife, and works in the IT industry in Berkhamsted. He attends the Northampton SF Writers Workshop each month, where contributors work is subjected to very constructive critique. Nigel's ambition is to win the lottery and retire to the romantic coastline of Cornwall, there to remain until he become a part of the rugged scenery in the fullness of time. He has a motor bike that's rusting nicely, and a car that serves as target practice for any birds that happen to be around. Sometimes he and his wife go for a cycle ride. Sort of. He says "We pedal for about 200 yards then pause while pretending to adjust the chain or something. One day we hope to reach the end of the road." Nigel has written several short stories, including The Tower, published in Shoes, Ships and Cadavers by NewCon Press, and Waif, published by Greyhart Press. He has also written a children's fantasy novel, The Scrapdragon, that he is looking to place. Currently he is working on a series of vignettes under the working title of The Village, a collection of quirky tales with a linking theme.
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Reviews for Garrison (a military fantasy novelette)
4 ratings2 reviews
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5An average story for me. I liked Von but didn't care for Hoop. War is never fun and relying on your buddies is very important. Edwards does a good job of trying to explain brotherhood in war time.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I liked the flavour of this story's names and terminology: lots of Qs and double vowels, and not a familiar European-esque name to be found anywhere. Most of the terminology added real distinctiveness to this fantasy world (e.g. the specialized riding beasts), but a few of the invented terms seemed unnecessary (e.g. calling a standard-issue mace a "thul" instead of just calling it a mace).The characters are engaging enough -- they're two rookie soldiers learning the harsh realities of war, with a sympathetic elder soldier there to teach them the tricks of the trade. While staying in the titular garrison, the rookies stumble across what seems like a political intrigue subplot, but it didn't end up coming to anything. The ending seemed to come quickly and leave questions unanswered. But the author says this story is an extension of his first novel's world, and I found it believable that the characters' lives stretch beyond this piece of writing. Even without its parent novel for context, Garrison is a solid read.
Book preview
Garrison (a military fantasy novelette) - Nigel Edwards
Garrison
Nigel Edwards
Copyright Nigel Edwards 2011
Published by Greyhart Press at Smashwords
Cover images copyright 2011 by KireevArt and fotola70. Used under license from fotolia.com
Editing and cover design by Tim C. Taylor
www.greyhartpress.com
Contents
Garrison
About this Story
About the Author
About Greyhart Press
Other Stories you Might Enjoy
1
Ataqa Helvem, son of Medith, plodded in the footsteps of the man in front. Hours had passed since the last stop and the leather straps of his sandals were chaffing his skin. They were a long way from the training camp at Lake Orbirith and even farther from the small town of Hoome, where Ataqa’s family would be sitting down for the evening meal right about now. That was several days of solid marching from here, and ‘here’ was still a half day trek to their destination, the Harteq Sef garrison in the disputed Iron Flats territory.
Everything in this country was different. The trees, the wildlife, even the colour of the sky had a quality that impressed upon Ataqa that he was far from home. Sure, there were mountains here and that was good, but they were small and jagged, broken teeth rising from the gums of the world, nothing like the soaring majesty of the great ranges back home, their highest peaks forever crowned by snow and ice. The tallest feature in this land was Achem’s Thaa. In the distance Ataqa could just make out the rim of the sleeping volcano that made the Sef such a valuable place. There were no volcanoes back home.
A whistle blew. The order to halt the march had been given by the troop commander, Captain Zelaar, riding high at the head of the column on his razaan. All the foot-soldiers were wary of that creature — who wouldn’t be?
Razaan were monsters, hideous and fearsome beasts. Six spindle legs arched high to support a bloated abdomen that looked as if it should squelch with every movement. Two great eyes of jet bulged out sideways, devouring all light while a third eye, turret-mounted, gazed rearward, ever watchful. Mandibles clicked open and shut as a long black tongue flicked out to taste the air and somewhere in its maw were dreadful, flesh-piercing fangs, poised to deliver a venomous bite.
The Captain’s razaan had a particularly evil look. A ragged scar crossed the left orb. Whatever distortion of vision that might imply you still knew that your measure had been taken when you came under its gaze: the scent of your blood and the pace of your heartbeat had been registered; the distance from the fangs to your flesh had been calculated and the remaining span of your life was subject to predatory whim. Captain Zelaar called his mount Sing-song though why he’d settled on such a genteel name was anybody’s guess.
We’ll make camp here tonight,
the troop commander informed his lieutenant. See to the details, Givenji.
Acknowledging the order with a nod the officer moved down the line.
Number One section leaders! Secure the perimeter and set posts. Number Two, set camp — and make sure the latrines are downwind! Number Three section, scout duty. One thousand paces, no more. Report back when you’ve completed the circuit — and if you find anything for the pot, so much the better.
Ataqa was in Number Three section. He was glad to be spared the chore of digging latrines in the flinty ground. He was tired but now he could drop his main kit and travel light with just his bow and a nocked arrow to hand — not that he expected to find much worth the shooting in this arid place.
Section leader Barqo, in charge of Ataqa’s party, divided his men and