I was beginning to see just how incredibly punctual Terrans were. They were like golems, or better yet, like their clock, Ol’ Faithful. Ol’ Faithful would chime at twelve o’clock, and suddenly everyone would be going to their homes for lunch. It was more than that, though. It was as if they knew exactly how much time it would take to accomplish a task, and they would be done with that task at exactly twelve o’clock. I didn’t see how they managed to do it, but they didn’t leave things half finished. Bran and I hadn’t learned that yet. We heard the clock gong and had to hurriedly finish cleaning up. Then we ran to the bathroom to wash up, left the armor on the stands because we were late, and ran back to Hamot’s home. Nalimea was done setting the table, and both she and Hamot were at the table waiting patiently for us to get there when we burst through the door.

  “[Sorry we’re late,]” Bran said as we sat.

  “[Not bad fer yer first day,]” Nalimea said graciously.

  “[Aye, not bad, lads. Even if yer not wearin’ yer armor. We’ll cut ye a little slack yer first week,]” Hamot added. “[Tuck in.]”

  We didn’t have to be told twice. They had sandwiches and potatoes and some kind of mushrooms to eat, with a big mug of milk to drink. Famished as I was, I tore through my food as fast as I could politely eat it. We made small talk about the foundry and what we learned that day, then Hamot pushed back his chair to leave. I still had a few bites of potatoes on my plate, and I stuffed as much of it as I could into my mouth.

  “[Well, off to it, then, lads. We all got work ta do,]” Hamot said.

  Bran and I jogged back to the foundry and got there as Telruk, Tinor and Nalim marched up. Ol’ Faithful gonged one o’clock, and in we went. We got straight back to work. I heard a rumbling coming from the iron tracks in the north wall and coming out of the darkness were three big carts full of ore with each one being pushed by two Terrans. They simply rolled their carts into the room, pulled a lever near the bottom of each cart that was attached to some gears and an axel, then used the handles on the top to rotate the metal box on the cart to dump out the ore next to the track. Then the six Terrans pushed their carts back into the darkness, never saying a word to us in the process.

  There were a few of the smaller hand carts here in this room, so Bran and I each got one, then began shoveling up the ore into the carts to be pushed into the storage room and emptied onto the floor near one of the other piles. It took several trips, and when we were halfway done, two carts of coal were delivered the same way the ore was. They just dumped it further into the room, closer to the coal chute. I thanked them for that, but they only touched their brow in salute, not saying anything. Then they just waved and left. After we finished storing all the ore and coal, we went around to the coal room and started the process all over again.

  “It’s like they’re being charged a fee for the number of words they have to say,” I said around labored breathing.

  “I thought they’d be beaten if they accidentally said something.”

  “Maybe they just don’t like us yet.”

  “Probably right,” Bran said. “Terrans are slow to trust outsiders.”

  By the time Ol’ Faithful rang out five o’clock, Bran and I were exhausted. We managed to hurry up and actually finish the cleanup shortly after, and Telruk dismissed us with a wave. We went to the bathroom, cleaned up and put our armor on, hefted our shields and axes, and barely dragged our exhausted backsides back to Hamot’s home.

  Hamot was just walking in the door when we got there, right on time. We went in after him, and like clockwork, the dinner table was already set and Nalimea was just walking out of the kitchen with a warm loaf of bread. Without much conversation, we ate like there was no tomorrow. When I was done, I leaned back in my chair not even thinking about the discomfort my armor was causing me.

  “[Ready, lads?]” Hamot asked.

  Bran and I looked at each other with a blank expression. I asked the obvious question. “[Ready fer what?]”

  “[It’s time ta begin yer martial trainin’, it is,]” Hamot said matter-of-factly. I barely stopped myself before the vilest curse word I knew came out of my mouth.

  Hamot, sharp-eyed as ever, knew by my expression what I was thinking, and even seemed to find it funny. He chuckled, a sound not unlike rocks grinding together. “[Ye’ll be wantin’ ta learn ta swear like a true Terran, then?]” he asked.

  “[I was just thinkin’ me vocabulary was lacking th’ words ta express me thoughts right now,]” I said ruefully.

  “[Ye’ll not be usin’ such filthy talk in this house, don’t ye know!]” Nalimea exclaimed, poking Hamot right on the nose. “[Don’t ye dare teach them any such thing, ye great lout!]” Nalimea punched Hamot on his shoulder pauldron hard enough to make his head rattle.

  “[All right, all right, me darlin’. I was jus’ kiddin’, I was!]” Hamot said quickly, hands held up defensively before him.

  Hamot understood that continued life as he knew it would require that response. He rubbed his shoulder pauldron as if greatly wounded. For her part, Nalimea had a half smile on her face as she started gathering up the plates.

  “[I do love it when yer frisky,]” Hamot said with a roguish grin at his wife. After a long moment, he fixed his gaze on Bran and me. “[Come on, then, lads. We don’t wanna be late.]”

  Bran and I couldn’t help but groan as we levered ourselves out of our chairs with fifty pounds of armor on. That was a lot of weight for a twelve-year-old to carry around, and to do it after a hard day’s work was a real struggle. My shield felt like it weighed a ton, and the axe may as well have been an anvil.

  We followed Hamot back to the entrance of the city at the marketplace, and then into a passage to the west that went up one level to a large, cavernous marshaling yard. There we found Terran youths, both male and female, who were arriving at the same time we were. They all seemed to be outfitted with the same kind of chain armor, shields and battleaxes that we were, but they were only three and a half feet tall, and their armor fit them very well. Once again, I felt like an idiot. I noticed that none of them were dragging their feet looking tired, so I sucked it up and straightened my back a bit. Hamot’s words were ringing in my ears, and I didn’t want to give the human race a bad name, after all was said and done.

  The three of us walked over to a grizzled looking Terran who was missing his left eye, which was covered by a black patch. He was as tall as Hamot and was fully armed and dressed in ornate plate armor. He had a black beard worn in a single braid that was tucked into his wide belt. He looked like someone who had never learned to smile. This was someone I wouldn’t insult for any reason.

  “[May yer axe strike true, Hamot,]” he said.

  “[As long as ye leave me somthin’ ta swing at, Denet!]” said Hamot fondly. They punched each other on the pauldrons simultaneously with a great clang.

  “[Are these the new recruits ye warned… ahem… told me about earlier?]” Denet asked.

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  “[Aye. That’s Bran an’ that’s Jeron,]” Hamot said, pointing a thumb backward at each of us in turn. He turned to us. “[Lads, Denet Trueshield here’s a member o’ an ancient an’ honorable clan, an’ we served together in th’ Grunbar campaign nigh forty years ago. Learn from ‘im an’ do what he says, an’ he’ll make warriors of ye. Make yer clan proud.]” With that, he turned and marched off back down the corridor.

  The other trainees were already standing in a line about twenty paces away, still and silent as pillars. They were all standing at attention, shields at their sides, battleaxes at rest before them with the blades on the granite and the pommel in their right palms.

  “[Bran, ye’re on th’ right side an’ Jeron, ye’re on th’ left,]” Denet said, his one eye watching critically.

  We took our positions as quickly as we could. There were twenty Terrans there in line plus the two of us. Denet took us through some marching formations with abrupt changes into defensive lines. The others performed with precision, but Bran and I, with our ill-fitting armor and inexperience, managed to barely perform adequately, turning at the wrong times or in the wrong direction. It was like being in a fest hall dance without knowing how to dance to begin with. Being dead tired certainly didn’t help, either. I felt like I did very badly at this, but I started to get the feel of it after a while when I learned the cadence. A Terran’s stride was a lot different from a human’s, and it was difficult to get right at first. After an hour or so, Denet brought us into a two-line formation facing him.

  “[Axes on belts!]” Denet hollered. We all put our axes away. He pointed down a line, which happened to be mine.

  “[Shield wall!]” The others took positions side by side with their shields interlocked. I fumbled mine into position and struggled to keep the heavy shield in place.

  “[Th’ honeymoon’s over!]” Denet shouted.

  What in the world did that mean? The trainees behind me knew what that meant, obviously. I could hear them moving around behind us, then they all circled around to the front of us with big clubs held in their hands, which they must have taken down from the racks on the wall behind us. I could see Bran, who had ended up on the other side of my line. We shared a glance over the helmets of the other trainees that said, “we’re not going to like this.”

  “[Begin!]” Denet ordered.

  With that, the others rushed us, beating us with the clubs, trying to break our shield wall. All we could do was hold out. Our armor was thick, but I was getting a fantastic set of bruises. Blunt force trauma can hurt a person in plate armor, much more so in chainmail that doesn’t fit right. The armor spreads out the force of the blow, and the gambesons work to soften it further, but the young Terrans knew how to swing a club with strength. Everyone on the line had one person beating them with a club on the shield, helm and shoulders, and it wasn’t fun. It went on like that for about ten minutes before Denet ordered them to stop. Our line held pretty well, I thought, but my arm was pretty shaky from the long day’s work and strain of holding a shield up.

  “[Switch!]”, Denet ordered.

  The other line of recruits handed the clubs to the person they had just been beating on, and then formed a shield wall like we just did. I wasn’t really thrilled about this, as I didn’t really want to hurt anyone on the other line.

  “[Begin!]” Denet ordered.

  Like it or not, I threw myself at their shield wall as they did to us and flailed at my trainee the best I could. The club felt like a whole log, and my blows softened. I could see the trainee’s eyes, and he really wasn’t hurt at all. The look of disdain in his eyes told me that he thought it was like a little girl was slapping him, and huffed in disappointment. He was disappointed! As I tried vainly to club him, completely unable to touch his helm, I wondered what the point was. Eventually, Denet called a halt.

  “[Shield wall!]” Denet called to everyone.

  The entire unit formed a shield wall, integrating the two lines very quickly except where Bran and I were standing. The Terran I was just beating on shoved me aside roughly, causing me to stumble to the side. I caught my balance and stepped to the end of the formation. A quick glance to my left showed me that I was at one end of the line and Bran was at the other. Denet pulled a club out from behind his back.

  “[Fer th’ newer trainees, th’ point o’ this is ta simulate battle situations without hurtin’ anyone. It’s also done ta toughen up yer bodies an’ yer resolve. Ye’ll understand better in th’ years ta come why ye’re bein’ abused like this now. Know this! Th’ enemy ain’t gonna sit back an’ let ye take a breather when ye get winded! They’ll fight ta kill wi’ everythin’ they have in ‘em! Learn ta breathe better while yer fightin’ so ye don’t run out o’ energy when yer life’s on th’ line! An’ lastly, th’ shield wall’s only as good as th’ weakest link! Those on th’ ends get hit more!]” Denet bellowed.

  With that, Denet, who was standing in front of me, shifted to the side a bit, and hit me in the chest with a very hard blow. It blasted the air out of my lungs and knocked me backwards on my rump. I laid there, gasping, struggling to get air back into my lungs. Then he hit the next trainee but didn’t quite manage to knock him over. I was definitely going feel this in the morning. He paused for a moment to let this lesson sink in.

  “[In a real battle, th’ lads on th’ ends have ta adjust! Ye have ta curve th’ line ta keep th’ enemy from gettin’ behind ye. Ye can bet we’ll be practicin’ that!]” We all caught our breath as he spoke.

  “[There’s a lot o’ room fer improvement, lads. We’ll get better tomorrow. Dismissed!]”

  I just laid there for a minute, wondering if anyone would care if I just went to sleep right there in the marshalling yard. Most of the Terrans marched away, each throwing a disgusted glance at me as they left. Being the object of scorn wasn’t a good feeling. Bran soon stood over me.

  “As the ancient saying goes: ‘better you than me,’” Bran said with a grin. He held out a gauntleted hand for me, which I took, and he hauled me to my feet. “Did that hurt as much as it looked like it did?”

  “What do you think? We’re going to be here for a while,” I said, still breathing hard, bent over with hands on my knees. “I don’t think you’ll be grinning tomorrow.”

  “Definitely not. When we get through all this, we’ll be stronger for it,” Bran said.

  “You assume too much,” I said ruefully.

  Four of the other recruits were nearby and turned their attention to us. They didn’t look to be winded at all, and they certainly didn’t look surprised at the outcome of this training session. Of the four young Terrans, one was my sparring partner when the “honeymoon” ended.

  “[Sorry ‘bout beatin’ ye up like I did, but Denet woulda taken me place if I hadn’t, don’t ye know,]” he said matter-of-factly.

  “[Bah, me older brudders have beaten me worse than that,]” I said casually. “[It’s no big deal.]”

  That was a lie, of course. I was aching pretty badly right then. The Terrans seemed to appreciate the bravado, however, grinning in good natured humor and sharing a glance at each other. My sparring partner spoke up again.

  “[Me name’s Nagran. That’s Bothen, Drust and Treth,]” Nagran said, pointing at each one in turn. “[May yer strike be true.]”

  “[Jeron,]” indicating myself, “[an’ me brudder Bran. May yer strength never flag.]”

  “[Good ta meet ye both. We hear tales sometimes about th’ fightin’ prowess o’ humans, and it’s become a common insult among Terrans. No offense to ye. I’m glad ta say ye did better than we expected fer a couple o’ human lads barely twelve years old,]” Nagran said.

  “[I’ll take that as a compliment,]” Bran said with a grin.

  “[Aye. We’ll see how ye fare in th’ long haul, we will,]” Drust said speculatively.

  “[Which reminds me,]” Treth said with gauntleted fists on his tassets. “[They didn’t cry out ta their mums even once in th’ whole session today. Ye owe me a silver, Drust.]”

  “[Bah. I’ll be glad ta pay that wager, I would,]” Drust said good naturedly.

  Without breaking eye contact with us, Drust reached into a belt pouch with gauntleted fingers, pulled out a silver coin, and with his thumb he flipped it over his head. It landed directly into the outstretched hand of Treth, who also never looked at the coin in its flight. Treth put the coin safely into his own pouch and patted it in satisfaction. While wearing armored gauntlets, everything about that exchange was incredibly impressive.

  I shared a glance with Bran. “[I suppose it’s good ta have low expectations sometimes.]”

  Nagran clapped me on the shoulder. “[That’s the spirit, lads!]”

  “[Aye! We’ll see ye back here tomorrow, we will!]” Treth said that with a smile and a wave as he and the others turned and walked towards the entrance of the marshaling yard. When they had marched out of earshot, I could see there was animated discussion amongst them as they marched.

  “Looks like another round of wagering’s in progress,” Bran said.

  “I can hardly wait to find out what it’s about,” I said with a groan, stretching out my back a bit. I was beginning to find out about the effects of wearing badly fitting armor to battle. It was most unpleasant.

  We walked back to Hamot’s home to get some sleep and do it all over again tomorrow. To look at it in the most optimistic way, I had to remind myself that to be in Stonekeep when the Executors arrived would mean a most painful death for me and probably everyone I’d ever met. Feeling the bruises forming, I wondered if it would be better to just get it over with. I shook my head to clear that thought away. This was a really tough first day in Kurgh Rhamot, but I held out hope that the days would get easier.