Chapter 2
You're in the Army Now
Never in Winter's entire life had he ever possibly imagined that there were so many IceWings in the Ice Kingdom. All he had ever known his whole life was the palace and chosen grounds that aristocrats visited, hunted, worked, and lived. All he knew beyond that were the distant posts that Ghosts visited and officers were assigned. The masses were out of sight, and out of mind.
Not anymore though. Now, Winter was standing in a formation five thousand strong, and one of four currently at the camp. Each seemed to be at different stages of their training, with his being the newest and freshest recruits.
The camp itself was like nothing he had ever seen. It was a three day flight north of the palace, on a particularly treacherous stretch of the western coast. On the eastern side were the barracks, which consisted of row after row of thin fabric tents, which fought to stay standing against the furious winds that continuously battered it from the west.
The north side was some kind of range, where ten huge contraptions stood menacingly, each attended by a crew of five IceWings. Half of them seemed to use a large string to propel a spear the length of a dragon impossibly fast into targets situated almost a kilometer away. The other half seemed set to lob some kind of huge sphere great distances along an arcing trajectory.
The west side was some kind of strange obstacle course of trenches and metal twine, while the southern side was a miniaturized version of what sat to the north, where some IceWings launched small spears from contraptions in their grasp at targets a few hundred meters away. Other IceWings were using the same contraptions, this time with huge knives on the end of them, to drill some kind of odd form of melee combat against straw dragons while drill instructors shouted at them.
Even stranger than the camp were the IceWings themselves. All of them, from the recruits to drill instructors and even the officers wore thick brownish black leather over their entire bodies, even their wings. This leather was covered in pouches, with many tools and other things clipped on, their purposes Winter could not even begin to guess at. On their heads, every dragon wore a gray metal helmet that covered about half their snout, most of their heads, and even a little of their necks. It dipped down behind the eyes, offering good protection to the latter half of their heads. It also had a rim that lifted slightly at the bottom, starting behind the ears. A leather strap held them to the dragons' heads, ensuring they did not fall off. All of it seemed very novel, and more than a little bizarre. Winter had never heard of anything like this in the war stories that were often told back home at the palace.
"Attention, recruits!" an authoritative voice shouted out, far louder than the roaring wind as a large and intimidating IceWing stepped onto the wooden podium their formation was facing. Winter recognized the cue, and immediately snapped to perfect attention. Unable to resist his curiosity, Winter's eyes wandered from their usual place directly forward to look around at the dragons around. All of the IceWings were looking at the officer respectfully, but very few were at attention, and those that were were holding themselves in quite sloppy stances. Winter resisted the urge to give a contemptuous snort, knowing he would receive a hard cuff to the head or slap of the tail if he ever dared to look so unkept. Holding his composure, Winter's eyes slid back forward to look at the officer.
"Recruits, when I say 'attention', you are to stand to attention!" the officer shouted, "I see some of you are smart enough to know that. Those of you to stupid to catch on, eyes up here!" the old IceWing officer snapped to attention so well Narwhal might've cried if he'd seen it, despite the cumbersome leather and metal he was wearing, "Like this recruits!"
All of the gathered IceWings attempted to mimic the officer, to varying degrees of success. As the officer looked on, other IceWing officers began making their way down the rows of dragons, correcting those who needed it. One paused in front of Winter, giving him a small smile and encouraging nod before moving on and leaving Winter in a small state of shock. It was not often that he received any kind of compliment, much less a smile or encouragement. As he stood there and looked at the dragons all around him, he realized that for once he was among the best at something. Maybe his parents were right, and the regular army wasn't so bad afterall.
"Recruits!" the lead officer called out again, "Right now you are standing to attention. Anytime you're gathered here, you will take this position. Anytime you're addressed by a superior, you will stand to attention. My name is General Windstorm. You will refer to me as 'General' or 'General Windstorm.' No other title is appropriate. Use of any other title will result in disciplinary action. Am I understood?"
"Yes, General!" Winter called out, along with many others. Not all of them did, though, some left it at 'yes,' while others nodded or remained silent.
"When a superior officer addresses you, you answer with, 'General,'" General Windstorm shouted, more aggressively this time, "I repeat, am I clear, recruits?"
"Yes, General!" all the voices answered loudly this time, and Windstorm nodded approvingly.
"That is your one free pass, recruits," General Windstorm said, "That is a mistake you shall never make again so long as you are here. Am I clear?"
"Yes, General!"
"Good," the general stepped forward and took a deep breath before speaking again, "Recruits, welcome to Fort Windward. This will be your home for the next twelve weeks, where we will turn you from undisciplined little meatbags into the fighting force that Queen Glacier needs."
"You're in the army now, recruits," the huge IceWing went on, "The army has expectations that we expect you to meet. While you're here, we will teach you to meet those expectations, and turn you into a coherent unit by the time you depart for the Northern Front. Those expectations will differ for each of you. For the next two weeks, all of you will undergo the basic training you need to function while in the army. After that, you will be split as we deem appropriate. Some of you will take on specialized roles as medics, auxiliaries, messengers, logistical support, or artillery. The vast majority of you, however, will be assigned to the Stormtrooper Corps, the iron fist that will smash through Burn's lines and lead us to victory."
General Windstorm paused briefly before continuing, "Many of you are wondering what I am wearing, and what you're seeing around the camp. This does not fit with the stories you've been told your whole lives about the glory of battle. What you're seeing around you are not the relics of combat from the old legends, but the beauties of modern warfare. Recruits, when you are done here, you will know how to aim, load, and fire a repeating crossbow. You will know how to wield a bayonet. You will know how to dig trenches. You will know how to navigate and cut through barbed wire. You will know how to prime and toss Dragonflame cacti, a gift from the SkyWings that we have gratefully adapted to our own purposes. You will know how to spot enemies, cross the killing ground, and survive when the catapults and ballistas start raining hellfire down around you. Everything you need to carry the IceWing Army to victory on the Northern Front will be taught here. When you finish here, you will be fully prepared to crush Burn's army, and bring glory home to your families."
As the general spoke, Winter found his spirits rising. His dampened hopes had been momentarily forgotten by all the strange sights, sounds, and smells of Fort Windward, but with this announcement, they began to rise once again. Perhaps he would find some great honor here, and come back home and make his parents proud.
"Recruits!" General Windstorm continued, "Today, you will be assigned to your units, and begin with your basic training. Upon your arrival, all of you were given a necklace, with your name, your mother's name, and a number. Your unit will be the five dragons to the closest ten, for example, if you're numbers one through five, you're in a unit, six through ten is the next, and so on. Your units will be organized under the hundreds," he gestured to the fifty flags arranged in a crescent around the podium, "Anyone who can't read should seek out the closest drill sergeant for assistance."
"And a few last announcements," the general concluded, "Those necklaces you've been given are your tags. If you die and your comrades cannot identify you, they will be how we get word of your families of your fate. Do not ever take them off or lose them. And lastly, to anyone this may apply to," Winter felt General Windstorm's eyes sweep over him, "Remember, you're in the army now. The Circles do not apply here. Do not expect any special treatment or privileges for blood or Circle. Most of you have no idea what I'm talking about, and shall not concern yourselves with it. For those that do, remember this, disobedience is an infraction for which this is your sole warning. And a word of advice for all of you, respect and care for your comrades, and they will keep you alive. Dismissed."
The almost perfect formation quickly dissolved into a chaotic mass of quietly chattering dragons as everyone looked at their tags and tried to find out where they were supposed to go. As Winter looked down at his neck, he felt a strange chill run through his heart. He had never looked at it since he'd put it on, as he was much more curious about the camp, but now as he took it in, he felt the breath catch in his chest just slightly.
Winter - Tundra
10989361
Quickly shaking off the unease, he looked up, craning his neck over the sea of shimmering white scales. Around the edge of the crescent were the fifty flags, each spaced apart with enough space for thousands more IceWings than were here. Near the left side, he saw a blue flag with white number three hundred fifty. Pushing through the crowd, Winter finally stepped into some space and hurried over towards the flag where fifty more dragons were gathering, and a large female IceWing stood on a podium.
As he made his way over, she started shouting over the din, "Recruits between three fifty and four hundred, organize over here!" she turned to the organized dragons, "All of you, organize numerically! Since all of you found your way over here, I'm going to assume you can read! I want all of you lining up by fives along the edge of the crescent, lowest on the left, highest on the right! Move it, recruits!"
"Yes, Lieutenant!" Winter chanted with the others.
Looking at the ground, he saw painted stones with factors of ten. He looked at his tags again, and found the number sixty on the ground. As he stepped over, he found four other IceWings already there, each of them about his age if not younger.
"A little late, eh?" said the nearest dragon playfully, a strikingly beautiful female IceWing whose scales glimmered a shade of light blue Winter had never seen before. Her face and spikes were perfectly symmetric, except for a ring of freckles much like those on his friend Lynx.
"Don't worry about it, friend," the IceWing went on brightly, "I'm Frost, what's your name?"
Winter hesitated briefly, unsure how to proceed. His whole life, everyone had always known who he was. He also realized he had never spoken to a commoner before.
"No need to be shy, friend," Frost smiled reassuringly before Winter could think of a proper response, "I promise, we don't bite," she gestured her wing to the dragon behind her, a larger, muscular male or pure white, "This is Tempest, he's a lumberjack's apprentice," she pointed on to a smaller, lithe IceWing with watchful eyes that darted about attentively, "That's Hare, he's one of our towns preyhunters," she pointed at a larger dragon grayish white dragon with a smile on his face, despite the jagged scar that cut down his nose, "And that one's Flurry, he's a preyhunter like Hare, though he has a reputation for chasing angry, spikey things with big teeth," she gave Winter a wry grin.
"So you're all from the same town?" Winter asked, his curiosity overcoming his hesitation.
"We're from Blackhill," Flurry offered, "You probably haven't heard of it. It's a tiny little town in the southeast, about a hundred kilometers northwest of the front."
"The officers draw from the town lottery when they come through every few months," Tempest said seriously, "Everyone between two and a half and twenty has to put their name in, unless you qualify for a Valid Excuse. Fifteen unlucky draftees get selected. This time around, it was our heads on the chopping block."
"Is that not how things go in your town, friend?" Frost asked. By the curiosity written all over her face, and the fact that she was leaning so far over her front talons that she was in danger of toppling over, Winter suspected that she had probably never been outside her own town, "Where are you from?"
"I'm from the palace," Winter offered, debating what was and wasn't appropriate to say. After a moment, he added, "I'm Prince Winter, my father is Queen Glacier's brother, Narwhal. I volunteered."
There was a moment of shock on all four IceWings' faces at that announcement. Tempest and Hare both looked taken aback, and a little intimidated, while Frost looked even more curious, and Flurry had a strangely playful and mischievous expression on his face. In the awkward silence that followed, Winter realized that he might have said too much to these peasants, who had probably never even met an aristocrat, much less a royal.
"Prince Winter, eh?" Flurry barked a short laugh, "What in the three full moons brought you here? Do you have any idea what you signed up for?"
Of all the reactions he was expecting, that was not it, and Winter found himself awkwardly silent again. Luckily, the other IceWings didn't notice, as they were too busy amongst themselves.
"What do you think you're doing, seal-brain?" Tempest snapped angrily, smacking Flurry with his tail spikes, "You can't say that to a royal! You're going to get us in trouble!"
"Oh hush, you," Flurry blew him off with a laugh, "You heard General Windstorm, none of that matters here, we're all equal. And besides, he's in our unit, we ought to be friends with him, so long as he isn't too much of a droopy icicle."
"Well?" Flurry asked, turning back to Winter and offering a welcoming arm, "We'll have your back, so long as you have ours. So what do you say, Princess? Friends?"
Winter was frozen still for a moment as he tried to make sense of everything that had just happened. On one talon, this Flurry dragon had just seriously insulted him, but on the second talon, his expression looked more playful than mean. And on the third talon, all of these dragons were willing and eager to be friends with him. He realized that these dragons had no concept of the rankings, and probably didn't care. They didn't mind when he sneezed or how he talked, so long as he was nice to them and had their back. His parents would surely be furious and disappointed if they found out he was befriending peasants, but they weren't here, and as Flurry said, they were all equals in the army.
"Alright," Winter clasped Flurry's talons within his own, "Friends."
"Yay, new friend!" Frost smiled brightly as each dragon greeted him, even Hare, who seemed quiet and a little nervous.
"Don't mind him," Flurry reassured him, then added in a lower voice so only Winter could hear, "Hare lost all of his older siblings in the war. Just show him you're sincere and he'll warm up to you. He's a little nervous about following them to their fates," Flurry raised his voice and clasped Hare on the shoulder, "But we aren't gonna let that happen, are we?"
"No, we're not," Winter added with a smile that the nervous little dragon returned after a moment's hesitation.
"Good on ya," Flurry patted Winter lightly with his tail, "And we'll do the same for you, alright Princess?"
Winter gave a laugh and shook his head, trying unsuccessfully to prevent a smile, "I'm not going to be able to convince you not to call me that, am I?"
"Your resistance will only encourage us, Princess," Frost teased, patting him on the shoulder.
Winter glanced back to see if the lieutenant was waiting on them, but she was busy helping a small gaggle of illiterate dragons find their units. Around him, the other units seemed to be going through similar interactions as his own was. He briefly wondered if the officers were intentionally letting the bonding go on to build cohesion within the units.
Turning back to the group, Winter watched curiously as they all teased one another, and felt a strange sense of longing. They looked more like a family than anyone he had ever seen in the palace. They were rancor and undisciplined, but there was also clear affection between all of them. He found himself convinced that these were the kind of friends he wanted, not the frosty and emotionless exteriors that all the aristocrats forced. And they had immediately befriended him and welcomed him into their group. If 'Princess' was the price he paid for that same affection they showed each other, then he decided he was okay with that.
"So tell me about the palace," Frost asked, tipping her head curiously, "I've never left Blackhill before. Is it as huge and beautiful and majestic as it is in the stories?"
Before he could answer, the lieutenant shouted, "Attention!"
"I'll tell you later," Winter said hurriedly as he turned and snapped to attention alongside the rest of his new friends.
"You!" the lieutenant pointed accusingly at Hare, "What do you call that pathetic excuse of a stance?" Out of the corner of his eye, Winter saw Hare freeze with fear as he became the center of attention. "Were you dawdling about like a starry eyed RainWing when General Windstorm was demonstrating?"
Hare was frozen still and did not respond, and Winter felt a twang of pity, remembering clearly the many times when he had been in Hare's place. Mentally, he urged Hare to respond, knowing it would only get worse if he stayed quiet. Unfortunately, telepathy didn't work as well for IceWings as it did for NightWings, and he didn't get the message.
"I asked you a question, recruit!" the lieutenant shouted, her leatherbound wings lifted majestically, "Were you dawdling about like a starry eyed RainWing while the general was demonstrating?!"
"No, lieutenant," Hare finally managed.
"Then explain to me, recruit, what your excuse is for your complete inability to stand to attention as you were shown?" the lieutenant growled.
"I-I don't know, lieutenant," Hare stumbled over his words as his wings drooped.
Winter squinched his eyes, then dropped out of the stance and out of formation, hurrying over to Hare. Wordlessly, he seized the smaller dragons wings in his talons and pushed them upward and forward, into the right place, then he pushed his shoulders and head back, rearranged his feet so he stood symmetric, and twisted his tail the way it should. Hare resisted at first, but then gave in and allowed himself to be corrected.
"Now eyes forward," Winter finished, "There you go, can you remember that?"
"Thank you," Hare whispered, face full of gratitude before quickly returning to a neutral expression as Winter had shown. Quickly, Winter returned to his spot, feeling the glare shift from Hare to himself. It was a feeling he was used to, and for once he did not feel bad about it. Better have it directed at himself, than these innocent and unprepared peasants.
"Apologies, Lieutenant," Winter called out, "Helping my comrades."
"Noble," the lieutenant rasped sarcastically, "They should write tales about you," raising her voice, she went on, addressing the whole group, "However, when you are under fire, you may not be able to get help from your comrades. When SkyWings are raining fiery hell on your heads from their artillery, you will only be able to rely on yourselves! Learn these skills quickly, if you like being alive."
She pointed at Winter before continuing, "At the end of the day's training,while the rest of you are eating dinner, this unit will be running up Mount Windward and back. If anyone else feels like making silly mistakes, they are welcome to join them now, I am taking volunteers," she paused dramatically and looked around, "No one? Didn't think so. I suppose all of you are starting to hate me right now. Good. That's my job. For the coming weeks, I will make it my Queen-given duty to make all of your lives as miserable as possible. You won't make mistakes, because you'll know the consequences, and you'll hate Fort Windward so much that by the time you get to the front, you'll say to yourselves, 'wow this is some much better than training with that squid-eater Lieutenant Iceflow', that is my purpose, am I clear?"
"Yes, Lieutenant!"
"Recruits!" Lieutenant Iceflow called out, "Fall in! I will show you to your quarters, where you will be spending the coming weeks."
The barracks were not what Winter was expecting. It was a barebones affair that hardly seemed appropriate for soldiers of Queen Glacier's army, even if it was meant for peasants. Each unit shared a single tent. The thick fabric was all that separated them from the fury of the north. There was nothing inside the tent at all, beyond a thin layer of sand on the ground, that Winter supposed they were meant to sleep on.
He bit his lip and flicked his tail, each realization since his arrival at Fort Windward making his concepts of war and the army seem increasingly far-fetched. A glance at Lieutenant Iceflow convinced him to keep his mouth shut, though, especially given the trouble they were already in.
Lieutenant IceFlow hurried them out of the tents and onwards towards a larger structure that was made of wood, rather than cloth. Inside, they found a small army of logistics dragons handing out leather and helmets to all the new recruits.
They were directed into lines by unit, and Winter found himself behind Flurry and in front of Frost. The logistics dragons were effective at their jobs, each quickly sizing the recruits and handing them their gear. Each was then ushered onwards to yet another set of dragons, who demonstrated how to put it on and wear it.
"Why do you think they're making us wear this?" Winter asked, feeling safe talking freely given that there was already a hum of conversation in the other lines.
"You really have no idea, do you?" Flurry turned to remark.
"This isn't how IceWings fight," Winter went on, "All this leather, surely it will slow us down? And MudWings are strong enough to pierce it with their claws anyway. Plus there's no honor in this, the enemy is supposed to see a majestic and shimmering dragon of ice sending them to the grave, not this whale meat they've got us wearing."
"Listen Princess," Flurry started, "All these ideas you've got about war, all the stories, they're-"
He paused suddenly, and Winter turned and was surprised to find Frost glaring angrily at Flurry, when she saw him turn, the glare vanished back into her usual smile, though this one looked a little forced.
"They're what?" Winter asked suspiciously.
"Nothing, don't worry about it Princess," Frost said as easily as she could.
Winter looked between them for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders and resumed looking around the huge room. Frost quickly snatched Flurry and pulled him back to her, whispering angrily into his ear. He knew he was not supposed to hear what they were saying, but his ears were sensitive and he could not help eavesdropping.
"I know, I know," Frost was hissing, "But you can't crush him now, look at him! All hopeful and noble, thinking he's going to be some kind of hero from the stories. You can't tell him, it'll crush him."
"He'll have to find out eventually," Flurry snapped back, "That's a cruel thing to hide from him."
"And he will," Frost whispered in a shaky voice, "We all will. You know what the odds are. Let him believe that, before all of that sweet innocence is stolen away from him when he really gets there."
Flurry nodded and returned to his place in line, giving Winter an apologetic smile as he passed. For a few moments, Winter contemplated their words, wondering what they meant. Evidently they were talking about him, but he wasn't sure what they meant.
He was pulled from his head as Flurry got to the front of the line and hurried off to get his things. It was only a few moments before the logistics dragons were swarming over him, taking all kinds of strange measurements and muttering to one another. Winter stayed silent through the whole process as the corporal in charge looked on. One of the logistics dragons said something to him, and the corporal hurried, soon to return with a neatly folded stack of leather in his talons with a helmet placed neatly on top.
Curiosity and excitement overtook his previous misgivings, as Winter hurried over to join Flurry and Tempest where they were beginning to put their uniforms on. As he opened the leather at the top, however, he noticed a patch sewn into the leather.
Frostbite - Whiteout
9786332
Hurrying back to the corporal who was handing a uniform to the next dragon, Winter held out his leathers and said, "Excuse me, Corporal, I think these already belong to someone."
"Ah, it must've been the wrong size for him, it happens all the time!" the Corporal smiled, tearing the patch off with his talons, "There you are good as new!
Winter accepted that answer as he turned to rejoin his friends. What he did not see was the way the smile faded from the corporal's face as he tossed the tag into a bin under the desk, which already contained dozens of other such patches.