Disclaimer: The Dragonriders of Pern book series belongs to Anne McCaffrey, all of the characters in this story are my own.
New Recruit
Getting through the mass of people was nearly impossible, and by the time Coracon managed to get into a side alleyway, his time to meet with on the training field was only a half a candlemark away. "I'll never make it now." He grumbled out loud thinking about the heavy traffic on the road. Originally, Coracon had wanted to go and say one last goodbye to his family, especially Ilona, but now there was no time.
The road heading to the outskirts of Paradise River Hold was as busy as Coracon had thought, but fortunately no wagons crowded the ditches. He jogged and walked in the ditches and grimaced as he sloshed through the scarps of hide, food and waste left by the refugees. He picked up speed but was making good time, while dragonlengths and dragonlengths of wagons moved slowly on the congested way. At one point he had to ask directions from two men in uniform where training field number five was located, he was directed out of the hold and after coming to a field road found a hastily made sign with directions to all of the training fields painted on it in big black letters. Following the directions he walked on a road which would eventually lead into forest where cotholders lived, and to finally a dead end. Others, young man like him, walked the road by themselves or laughing and chatting in small groups, a swagger to their step.
Coracon ignored them and suffered the laughs and jeers as he jogged up the road. He didn't talk back, which would have been his normal response. He wasn't going to risk being late for teaching some holdbrat a lesson. A few lone people began to jog as well once they saw Coracon, and they trailed not far behind him. A few dragonlengths down the makeshift road the training pastures on either side were numbered opposite of each other, one was on the left and two was on the right and continued until they stopped at number six. All of the other fields were long but not as wide and already contained many newly recruited men who formed large masses in the fields.
Sweat was beginning to run down his face and chest when he finally arrived at the sign displaying training field five. This field was more box-like than the others, to Coracon's farmer's eye he saw a nice pasture that wasn't over grazed, flat and with few rocks. This area was owned and reserved as prime pasture land for the wealthy cotholders, now the fields near the forest had been donated to General Terrill for his use. The field was relatively large and the grass was cropped close to the ground by some type of animal, Coracon figured herdbeasts from the look of the manure droppings. They dotted the field, and he smirked slightly as he saw a young man, close to his age, vainly wiping of his boots on the short grass, having stepped accidently in a pile of dung.
All of the recruits appeared to be gathering near a stand of four large trees near the center of the field. Coracon had to cross over a small stream that ran through the upper east part of the pasture, the pasture's animals had created a large shallow area in the stream where a makeshift bridge had been made with a few long skinny dead branches placed over the stream. He easily walked across the bridge without getting wet and headed along the beaten path from the brook to the trees, also created by the animals.
Close to one-hundred young men were milling about in the ample shade provided by the four giants trees, Coracon felt the temperature drop slightly as he stepped underneath the canopy of the tree closest to the path. Many small and a few large groups of young men were talking and walking about in the shade. Each group was talking with excited tones but Coracon couldn't understand any single thread of conversation because of the noise.
A large horn sounded behind Coracon and he jumped involuntary and mentally kicked himself as he turned around and saw five men on runners trotting towards the tree. The man in front seemed to be the leader, and he wore fine-tailored clothes and rode a handsome looking runner, as he trotted closer Coracon saw he had a dark mustache, a nose crooked from being broken. The man wore a semi-open helmet which hid his hair color and his expression was blank which bordered on steely. The man sat straight-backed on the runner, and rode the animal with the best posture Coracon had ever witnessed. All in all Coracon had a feeling this man wasn't one mess around. The four men on runners behind the first were between twenty to thirty turns, Coracon assumed, he couldn't age the man in front.
The four men also had finely tailored clothes, and wore helmets, though not as tall as the first man's helmet. The one of the far left had a trimmed dark brown beard and a bulbous nose, the one next to him was tall, towering over all of the riders. He had blond hair which was cut to his shoulders, and a double chin. The one to his right was short and looked the youngest of the four, he had no beard or mustache, with a slightly turned up nose. Coracon couldn't tell his hair color because of the helmet.
The next one, on the far right, had a brown mustache and brown eyes, with a turned up nose as well, those two looked very similar and Coracon judged them to be farmer boys, with the two on the left of some holder family and upbringing. He guessed this because of the way the two on the left held their back straight up and eyed the new group of recruits with disdain; the two on the right kept their faces blank and had poor riding posture.
All of the recruits turned silent when the front man drew his runner closer to the new recruits. Making sure that everyone was silent the man began to speak.
"I am Commander Neale, and will be your instructor and commander throughout your stay in Minor Holder Terrill's army. Can everyone one hear me?"
A few yes's and yes sir's echoed weekly through the crowd.
Commander Neale nodded slightly as he talked in a gruff voice, his eyes searched through the crowd as he spoke, making a few unlucky recruits look away nervously when they made eye contact.
"When I ask a question in the future you will answer yes sir, or yes Commander Neale. Is that clear?"
The new recruits nodded simultaneously, with a few young men shouting 'yes sir' and 'yes Commander Neale'.
"We'll work on that. Now, I will introduce my helpers. The young man on the far left is my sword instructor Hirum. Everyone from beginner to moderate will be training with Hirum, anyone with experience will train with sword experience will be training with myself."
Hirum nodded stiffly at the recruits, a murmur went up as the young man started to talk, and they fell quite quickly at Commander Neale's silent stare.
"Good, now, beside Instructor Hirum is Instructor Evander who is my bow instructor, like Hirum, anyone with beginner to moderate experience will work with Evander, all experienced bowman will work with me." Neale paused and gestured to his right. "On the far right is Instructor Carlin, he is the running instructor. Anyone can run, but not many people have any endurance, and since we have a lack of runners we will have messengers relaying information to different Commanders. Lack of runners isn't the only reason, dragons are carnivores they eat meat and runners are scared beyond measure even when they get a little whiff of them, so keep that in mind if you do get a runner, because they aren't much use on the battlefield." He paused and frowned at the recruits.
"Is he serious?" A young man whispered beside Coracon.
"He is a Commander…" Someone else replied. Coracon didn't say anything, the heat in the crowd was suffocating and he was afraid he was hallucinating. Dragons? They were long gone…right? The rumors he and Ilona had heard were just rumors made up by scared refugees! They were supposed to be fighting thieves…
Neale continued. "On my far right is Instructor Cale he is the cavalry trainer, anyone with beginner to moderate experience will work with Instructor Cale. All experienced riders will work with Instructor Evander and I. We will train the experienced riders to shoot a bow and arrow from a runner's back."
Once again a murmur went up from the crowd, but this time it died more quickly as Commander Neale frowned at the recruits.
"Dismount." Neale ordered the Instructors before turning back to the recruits, "You will all undergo testing to see which experience level you fall under in the sword, bow, running and cavalry divisions. Each instructor will write the level of experience on your personal information sheets as each of you complete the test. Now form two lines for each instructor…"
Everyone seemed to start moving and talking at once and Commander Neale couldn't be heard over the noise. Coracon became lost in the crowd as every recruit vied for a place in the lines, he found himself shoved in between a tall dark fellow who smelled of sweet spices, and a short, but older looking man who eyed Coracon disdain when he nodded hello.
"QUIET!"
The crowds grew silent and anyone left out of a line quickly jumped into one, as Commander Neale's glare caught the unlucky few who moved to slow.
"You WILL NOT move or TALK or do ANTHING unless I SAY SO." Roared Neale.
"CAN YOU HEAR ME."
"YES SIR."
"YES COMMANDER NEALE."
"Good…everything you do from now on will be because I said you can do it.I need you trained and obedient and any who oppose my command can take it up with Holder Terrill, see how that goes! Ha! Now you joined for a reason, are you ready to train, become the best and die for your holds and families!
A roar went up as all of the recruits around Coracon yelled their agreement to Commander Neale. Coracon yelled along weakly, doubts had begun to form in his mind. 'Die?' he didn't want to die, it hadn't truly occurred to him that he might in any ways become hurt or killed. An annoying voice, which sounded a lot like his sister's, nagged him saying he should have gone home and become a cotholder.
"Too late now…" Coracon muttered to himself, the line began to move and he walked with it, just one more one more face among the sea of men.
