4. Wind from the North
The following morning, Horyse hitched a lift with a convoy of military lorries that were taking supplies from the railhead at Bain to Perimeter HQ, more commonly referred to as the Crossing Point. Even at the slow speed of the 4.5 ton trucks, he anticipated a journey of no more than two or three hours. So, he was disconcerted when, after scarcely more than an hour and with over twenty miles to go, the engines of first one, then another, then all five trucks sputtered and came to a halt. The sergeant in charge conferred with the other drivers, and Horyse noticed him lick a finger and hold it up to test the wind. Then he came over and saluted.
"I'm sorry, sir, that's as far as we go today. Wind's from the north."
"Aren't you going to look at the engines?" demanded Horyse. "It could be the distributor, or the carburettor or something." Even as he said it, he knew that for all five trucks to fail at the same time and in the same manner was an almost impossible coincidence.
"No point, sir. Like I said, wind's in the north. Hopefully it'll die off or even veer round when the sun sets, and we can get moving again."
"Sunset? But I'm due to report in this afternoon."
"Well, sir, you've got two choices. Wait with us, or start walking." The sergeant's tone was unapologetic.
"What about you?"
"We'll just bivvy up here, sir. We've got rations, and stoves for a brew-up. We always come prepared in case this happens."
"Won't they be expecting you?" Horyse dreaded having to report to his new CO that five trucks had broken down, with no logical explanation as to why.
"No, sir," the sergeant answered, with the weary patience of a senior NCO dealing with an unusually stupid subaltern. "Like I keep saying, wind's in the north."
Horyse gave up, and after arranging with the sergeant to bring the rest of his baggage along, packed some overnight necessities into a backpack. He also took a water bottle and some marching rations, and set out. Horyse was used to long route marches on the Frontier, and on this late September day in northern Ancelstierre, the air was just cool enough to make walking pleasant. A great change from the burning sun and the dry, dust-laden winds of the Frontier. Horyse also realised quickly that he did not need to stint himself for water, since there were plenty of clear, fast-flowing streams, and he made fast progress.
As the sun climbed towards its zenith, he stopped at one of the rare farmhouses and was able to obtain milk, fresh bread and cheese to supplement his iron rations. He paused in the shade of a large oak, took out the small pocket stove that everyone carried on long patrols on the Frontier, and put water on to boil for tea. The provisions from the farm, along with strong, hot, sweet tea, revived him, and he felt no need to broach the bully beef and hard-tack that made up the marching rations. He did, however, extract the bar of chocolate and place it in a pocket for easy access.
The further north he travelled, the more sparse the signs of human habitation became. Farms became increasingly rare; cultivated fields and dairy herds gave way to flocks of sheep or goats grazing on open moorland. Horyse was astonished to find that the sense of coming home that he always felt on visits to Wyverly was becoming stronger as he got closer to the Perimeter. He could not understand why, but it was a pleasant feeling and did much to bolster his morale as the sun began to sink and his feet became more and more blistered on the cobbled road. He cursed himself for not taking the time to change the smart riding boots of his best uniform for the scuffed and comfortable combat boots he had worn on the frontier.
By late afternoon, Horyse saw from a milepost that he was still 8 miles from Perimeter HQ. He cursed as he realised that there was no way he would be there before dark. Continuing after dark would be foolhardy, since it would be easy to stray off the road and onto the open moor. And some instinct was telling him that to be abroad after dark this close to the Perimeter would be a dangerous thing. He needed to find a good place to bivouac, and he had a strong feeling that it must have running water to hand. Again, he could not explain this thought, and rationalised it as being down to the need for plenty of water for a brew-up to get him going in the morning. Horyse also began to suspect he had made a fool of himself. The wind was, indeed, beginning to drop; if the wind truly was the problem (which he still couldn't help doubting) then the trucks would be on the move soon. If they passed him on the road, it was true that he could get a lift the rest of the way, but at the price of enduring the barely concealed smirks of the sergeant. Even worse, if they missed him in the dark, they would arrive at HQ before he did, leaving him with some awkward explaining to do.
Horyse was just beginning to wonder whether the whole thing was some elaborate trick played on the new officer when he heard hoofbeats. Instinctively he sought for cover, but there was none to hand. Then he saw a horse and rider silhouetted on the skyline and, with his field glasses, determined that it was an Ancelstierran sergeant, mounted and leading another horse. The man evidently caught sight of him at the same time, spurring both horses into a canter. In a few minutes, he halted in front of Horyse with a clatter of hooves striking sparks from the cobbles of the road.
"Lieutenant Horyse, sir?" the man said.
"That's me," Horyse agreed.
"Papers please, sir." The sergeant's tone was polite but Horyse sensed that arguing would not be a good idea. From a pocket he produced his military ID card, and the orders posting him to the Perimeter. The sergeant scanned them for a minute, then handed them back, his face breaking into a grin.
"That's all in order, sir. Sorry about that but we can't be too careful up here. I'm Sergeant Curran of the Northern Perimeter Reconnaissance Force, or, as most people call us, the Crossing Point Scouts."
"Well, sergeant, I'm glad we bumped into each other. Any chance of borrowing your spare mount?" The sergeant laughed, but it was an open and friendly laugh.
"Bless you sir, that's what I'm here for. We knew you'd get stuck, what with the wind being in the north, and that you'd try to get here on foot. New blokes always do, begging your pardon. The old lags wait with the trucks, they know that up here, a northerly wind is one of the few acceptable reasons for being adrift. Anyway, when you didn't report in, Captain Tindall sent me out to look for you. Now, better hurry, sir, we want to be in before dark."
Horyse mounted and followed after Curran, who set off at a brisk canter which prevented further conversation. He could, however, study Curran's uniform, which was as unorthodox in its way as that worn by the Frontier Rangers. Over his standard issue service-dress tunic, Curran wore a thick leather jerkin with a high, wraparound collar and a steel gorget that protected the throat. He wore the normal forage cap but carried a steel helmet despite being behind the lines. The helmet was unusual too; the famous 'battle bowler' with its familiar bowl shape had been adapted with the addition of a neck guard and, he would later discover, a hinged faceguard that could be flipped into place when needed. Curran carried a sidearm but no rifle, and in place of the standard issue light cavalry sabre, he wore a curved sword with a shorter, but wider and heavier blade – a cutlass. Most unusual of all, slung over one shoulder was a round shield which had originally been khaki but which was now painted with brightly coloured symbols and devices.
The sun was still way above the horizon when they clattered up to the front gate of Perimeter HQ and dismounted. Both men's papers were checked carefully, Horyse noted, even though Curran must be well known to the men on guard. SThen, the corporal in charge of the guard reached up and with the first two fingers of his right hand, touched Curran's forehead; Curran simultaneously returned the gesture. The touch was brief, a mere second or two, then both men nodded.
"That's all in order sir, sarn't, you may pass." A soldier raised the red and white striped barrier and the two men led their mounts inside the gate.