6. The Wounded

Jack voiced his desire not to go drinking when they were within sight of the barracks. Xio and Zip protested. Jack protested back. Soon his comrades' expressions had changed from slight amusement to total exasperation.

"Look man, if anybody's got a right to get blasted, it's you! You don't even have to go anywhere!" Zip argued.

But Jack would have none of it. His health was still a bit shaky, he said.

Xio shrugged and said it was his loss. Zip called him a pussy. Jack ignored them both and wandered away. He listened to their retreating footsteps and, satisfied that he was alone, wandered across the yard until he was in sight of the main lodge and leaned against a tree.

With his back to the frozen wood, he stared out at the bleak sky and wondered what the hell he had gotten himself into by staying here. He knew he had to hear Ari's story. He knew he had to do something to help her. But he also knew that if he did help her, he stood a good chance of being discovered and an excellent chance of being killed for it.

The soldiers left at dusk for a nearby town called Orzwitha. Nobody knew why. Ari hailed Jack (she had to call "Kip!" three times before he turned around and she chided him for it) and he passed the time wandering the halls of the fortress and covertly helping out in the laundry.

He was sitting outside on the porch again at midnight, letting the crisp winter air clear his head from the stuffy heat of the fortress, there were soft footsteps behind him.

"Kip?"

Jack turned around immediately. Ari stood there, saggy-eyed and bundled in rags, tapping her furry foot on the porch.

"Yes?"

"The men are back. We need your help in here."

Jack got up immediately, dusted some stray powder off his behind, and followed her inside. They were soon hit with a blast of warmth from the huge fire in the main hall. Soldiers and maids alike were skittering everywhere. It was a frenzied ballet of bodies, buckets, and bandages.

"More water!"

"Get those blankets over in a corner, you lazy slug!"

"C'mon, Doll-face, haul ass! We don't got all day!"

"Where are all the goddamn healers? We got seventeen wounded coming in!"

"Wounded? What happened?" Jack asked Ari, rather bewildered.

"Troops 48 and 50 engaged a village. We're receiving wounded. General Dogface led the troop herself. They're thinking she might be dead."

Ari's last sentence reeked of unspoken hope. She jumped into the fray, yelling, "Calm down, Fwee! I'll go find the healers. Ipshen Renakalli, follow me!"

Jack ran after her as she made haste across the room, carefully keeping his face still. What, he wondered, was a troop doing 'engaging a village?' Fully trained soldiers against civilians? No. That couldn't be right. Could it?

The two of them left the room, shot off down another hallway and finally reached a trap door in a corner. Ari threw it open, revealing the top of staircase. With a meaningful look at Jack, she made her way carefully down, disappearing into blackness after only a few steps. Jack followed. The staircase was hollowed out of the earth, and it was winding and perilous. As soon as they had left the faint square of light from the trapdoor above, the walk was black as pitch. Jack felt his way along the wall and took a few clumsy steps.

"Ipshen?"

"Hm?"

"Here."

His hand was placed on something fuzzy (Ari's shoulder, he realized) and thus guided, he was able to walk with more confidence; they made better time. At least they reached bottom, revealing the beginnings of the fortress dungeon, which seemed to stretch out quite far in all directions. The earthen corridor was lit only by the lights of torches and the glow of Ari's eyes.

Soon they reached a large dusty cage. The iron bars stood floor to ceiling. The place stank of unwashed clothes and sweaty bodies. Jack could see black shapes moving about in the shadows.

"Ladies," Ari said politely. "We have customers."

She was answered by a mass groan and shuffling. Jack saw cloaks moving as the occupants of the cell slowly got to their feet. Ari pressed a small button on the wall and the barred gate peeled itself back, sliding off into the earthen wall with a loud rattling noise. She reached in and took one healer's hand (it was blue and scaly, Jack noticed) and helped the creature out. Jack imitated Ari, and soon everyone was out of the cell. There were ten cloaks all together.

"Is everybody here?" Ari asked, trying to peer into the darkness at the back of the cell.

"All except Seven," the healer with the blue scaly hand said. "She's tired."

"Then let her sleep. Let's go. Ladies, this is Ipshen Renakalli. He'll help as many of you as you like."

Jack made a small bow, out of habit. His armor clanked. Immediately, all of the cloaks turned in his direction.

"Ipshen," said a small voice from the back, "I'm so tired. Could you carry me up those stairs? Then I'll have more energy and I can heal better."

"Of course," Jack said. "Climb on my back."

As soon as the healers realized Jack would carry them, they all began to clamor noisily for a ride.

"He's not a tram, people. Settle down," Ari chided gently, leading a few healers up by the hand.

The trip up was much less traumatic than the trip down. Ari shut the prison door, and she and Jack led most of the healers out into the lodge area.

It was chaos. Maids were scurrying about with water and bandages. Unt-Ork ran by with an enormous pail of water. Soldiers and a few civilians were sitting around, their faces ashen, or lying deathly still on the floor. The healers flew into action. Jack watched the wounded yell in agony as they were treated, then slump in exhaustion. Maids picked them up on stretchers and carried them off to parts unknown.

Just then, Yazzi Digger stumbled in through the doorway, limping and growling. She was using a spear as a walking stick. Her wolfish snout twitched nervously. She licked her fangs and spat blood onto the carpet.

"General Digger!" Sniggla yelled, hurrying forward. Instantly the creature was surrounded by healers and soldiers.

They made a big fuss over the General and sat her down in front of the fire, shoving a few soldiers out of the way. She snarled as a healer worked some magic on a wound in her furry thigh. When it was over, she stood up and brushed the healer off without so much as a thank-you.

"I need a bath," she said fiercely.

"Yes, you do," Sniggla agreed. She turned toward Ari, who was mopping a wounded civilian's forehead and whispering something.

"Hey! Fur face!" Sniggla shouted. "General Digger needs a bath! Get over here!"

Ari dropped her bucket of water and came forward. In a place like Tarrenko, everybody knew how everybody else had ended up here. Sniggla knew all about Digger and Brinecreek. And since misery was her stock in trade, she took great pleasure in reminding Ari of that awful day in any manner she could.

"You can go to your personal bathroom, General," Ari said, smoothing her apron and plastering on a smile. "Just start walking. I'll be right with you."

Digger grunted at her and hobbled off. As soon as the general had turned the corner, Ari whirled around and grabbed Sniggla by the throat.

"If you have any sense of self-preservation," she hissed, and here she flexed the claws of her free hand, "You won't go to sleep tonight."

Then she shoved the fat maid into the nearest wall and ran off after Digger. Jack didn't even see the spat; he had other things to attend to. Unt-Ork ran by him, wheezing and carrying a huge bucket of water. It was her third run through the place. She tripped and fell, and the bucket went flying.

Water, water everywhere. The rug was soaked. So was Jack. Unt-Ork dropped to her stubby little knees, panting and blinking her huge eyes in exhaustion. Jack knelt next to her and grabbed the bucket just as a nasty-looking soldier approached, gingerly holding a broken arm. He was still waiting for a healer.

"That's the third time, you!" he grumpily yelled at Unt-Ork.

She said nothing. She just panted.

"You know what that means, alien? Three strikes. Your scrawny ass is going to The Wall."

Her huge black eyes shot open, and she clung onto Jack with a piercing screech. Jack put an arm around her. He had no idea what this "wall" was, but he faced the guard anyway.

"She is not going to the wall," he said.

The soldier answered this with something unrepeatable. "I'm getting this break taken care of," (a healer had just arrived and grabbed his arm,) "and then I'm taking that alien!"

After a few seconds of blinding agony, the guard looked at Jack, breathing hard, testing his newly healed arm, and appearing more determined than ever to get his way.

Jack faced him with a dangerous glare. Unt-Ork hid behind his legs, blinking and shaking.

"Give it here, damn it."

"No," Jack said quietly.

There was a tense pause.

"Oh, I get it," the guard finally said. "You want it for yourself! Farg, dude, that thing is so tiny! You're a freak. Well, whatever. It's yours. You can keep it as a pet. What's your name, anyway?"

"Kit Renakalli."

Jack was a bit frightened at how easily the lie rolled off his tongue, but that seemed to satisfy the man. He mocked Jack some more and then left. Both Jack and Unt-Ork stood there, he doing his best to look firm, she shaking like a leaf.

Jack noticed this. It seemed the situation was settling a little in the main hall. The noise had dropped to a dull roar and there was nothing immediate that he could to do help. He took Unt-Ork by the hand and they slipped out into an empty hallway. Jack knelt so he was relatively eye-to-eye with her.

"It is all right," he said. "Whatever the Wall is, you will not go to it. I will protect you."

Unt-Ork stared at him for a moment, nodding but unable to speak. Tears slipped out of her bottomless black eyes. She fell forward and clung to him hard, pressing her face up against his chest so that all he could see was the top of her gray head, and began to sob.

At one in the morning, the main hall had been emptied of wounded and re-filled with muttering soldiers. Half the troop reeked of alcohol. Jack sat quietly in the back next to Xio and Zip, whose choice of cologne seemed to be Eau d' Vodka. The hall went quiet as Digger walked in, freshly bathed and dressed.

A smile tugged vigorously at Jack's lip. Someone (Ari, he figured) had done a lousy job of drying her fur. It was sticking out in all directions and made her look rather like a large Pomeranian. In spite of that, she walked tall and proud to the front.

"Good evening, Troop 50," she said. "We are now thirty strong. We have a new member who comes to us from the defunct troop 49. Stand up, Ipshen Renakalli."

Jack did as he was asked. Everyone stared rudely. He sat back down. Someone nearby hiccoughed drunkenly and said, "Yay!" He was quickly hushed.

"Troop 48's fight against the evil city of Orzwitha was unsuccessful," Yazzi went on. "We made fifteen kills, wounded four, and took thirty prisoners, but most of the troop was wounded. That's where you come in, gentlemen. You will finish what they started. We will return tomorrow to re-engage. Be prepared to go at sunrise. That is all."

And with a swish of her tail, she left. The soldiers looked around at each other and staggered to their feet.

Xio smiled sloppily at Jack. "Less gessome shut-eye," he slurred. "Sunrise izzurly."

"Indeed," said Jack. "But I am confused. I heard someone say that Troop 48 challenged a village, not a city."

"Tch. Village, city … doesn't matter," the soldier said carelessly. And then suddenly, his voice warped into a crisp monotone and his eyes took on a fiery glow. "Outsiders are the enemy. We must protect the interests of the Empress. We love her. We must get her more land, more people, more wealth. MORE!"

Jack gaped at him. But after a second Xio shook his head, flapping his jowls, and seemed to return to his former blissfully intoxicated state. Jack was still staring at him with his mouth hanging open.

"Hey, don't let the flies in, Renakalli. Come on."

The two of them went off to the dormitory, following the troop. Jack was the very last person to slip out of the main hall … and the only one who looked back.

TBC