Read The Iron Wolves for Free Online Page B

recognise he had few skills other than his strength and youth. His mother-in-law had suggested going to work in the tanneries or fish markets, but Jagan was a man of the land, open fields and fresh air. The thought of being enclosed made his head spin, as did the aromas from close gatherings of stench-ridden people. No. The army had seemed as good a place as any. That had been four long years ago, and Jagan had been lucky to keep his position when Yoon made vast and drastic cuts, sending tens of thousands of men back home and leaving the fortress feeling almost empty. Yes, it still had a garrison of ten thousand, but what the common man did not realise was that included staff, cooks and carpenters, builders, serving maids, ostlers and smiths. In terms of fighting force, they were perhaps seven thousand strong, and even those worked on rotation, with at least three thousand being out on training manoeuvres or on leave at any one time. Desekra was designed for a full complement of fifty thousand in times of war. Now, it seemed almost like a ghost town.
    The second man was tall and slim, with a narrow, pointed face like a ferret. He looked dark and mean, and quite out of place in a soldier’s uniform. His face was constantly twisted into a cynical sneer, and his excessive love of liquor had ended with more than one night in military prison.
    His name was Reegez. In a different world, in a different time, he would have had nothing to do with the likes of Jagan, and Jagan knew it. But here and now, forced together in the endurance of a soldier’s life, with hard physical training and long periods of boredom on various duties of watch, they had become good friends. Reegez had taught Jagan all he knew about cards and playing knuckle-dice; Jagan had bored Reegez with the thrills of crop-rotation and how to fix a broken plough.
    On this harsh night as the storm accosted the fortress from the south, howling like demons over the plain, so their conversation was muted. They’d been on duty for three hours, and water had ingressed both leather cloaks making the men cold and uncomfortable.
    “This is beyond a bad joke,” moaned Reegez, wriggling under the leather, shifting his shoulders in an attempt to block out some annoying draught. “Five times this month I caught a night-time watch, and five bloody times it’s rained like the Plague Ocean has been tipped over my head.”
    “I know. I’ve been with you all five times,” said Jagan, shuffling a little closer to the brazier. “I think the rain will stop soon.”
    “You said that two hours ago.”
    “You’re in a foul mood tonight!”
    “Well, it’s this horse shit weather, and this horse shit situation. Look out there! Go on, just bloody look!”
    Pandering to his friend, Jagan leant sideways and made an effort to glance between the crennellations. Water slapped him in the face like an irate lover. He gasped, dribbling water, and retreated back to the brazier like an injured kitten.
    “I can’t see anything,” he gasped.
    “Exactly. What’s the bloody point us standing out here in this horse shit, when we couldn’t even see a warhost of ten thousand camped five bloody feet from the wall? It’s pointless! They should let us inside until after the storm has passed. Get some warm tea and toasted bread down us. That would make more sense.”
    “You’ll be asking for a warm bed on your watch, next.”
    “Would that be so bad? A few hours’ kip. Why do they need two of us? It’s bureaucracy, is what it is. The bloody generals and captains don’t know what the hell they’re doing; they sit there in their ivory towers…”
    “There are no ivory towers at Desekra.”
    “…ivory towers so to speak, and drink coffee and smoke cigars and dream up ever more pointless ways for us to waste our time. You know yesterday? They had twenty of us scrubbing the cobbles in the east stables; scrubbing the cobbles! On our bloody hands and knees, we had to do it till the stone was