The Choice of Magic - Michael G. Manning Page 0,123

is your first and best line of protection, a shield. Given the choice between no shield and the best armor, or a shield and no armor, you’ll usually want the shield.”

He went on for some time after that, emphasizing the importance of prioritizing the placement of the shield depending on whether one was in the front, second, or third row of a battle line.

Once their rest was over, they did in fact practice sparring for a while, despite what the sergeant had just told them about its relative importance. Will learned how to make effective cuts and thrusts and watched practical demonstrations regarding when he should consider switching to the sword or continue using his spear.

In the last hour before the evening meal, they were shown how to sharpen their swords to a fine edge as well as how to maintain their other gear. Will was exhausted by the time they were finally released to go eat.

As they sat in the mess hall, he noticed that Dave’s cheek was swollen on one side. “What happened to you?” asked Will.

Dave grinned. “Hah. You should ask about the other guy.”

Sven shook his head in disgust. “That shit’s going to come back to haunt you.”

“I’m the one they should be looking out for,” bragged Dave.

Will couldn’t help but agree with Sven, but he stayed silent. He knew from experience that Dave wasn’t one to take advice, especially if it was good advice.

Through the rest of the week Will began to get used to the routine, though it still left him bone-tired at the end of every day. Latrine duty, breakfast, and then digging for the earthworks took up the mornings. After lunch, the entire company would practice marching and formation drills for a couple of hours before moving on to either sparring or learning yet another procedure. Some days it was learning to set up and repack their camp before or after a march, other days it was maintenance of their equipment and weapons.

Through it all Will was constantly hungry—hungry for sleep, and hungry for food. He had never had much fat on him, but what little had been there started to melt away. He was pretty sure he had lost weight, but when he looked at his arms, they definitely seemed more muscular. Then again, maybe it was his imagination.

The changes in Tiny were more noticeable. The big man had definitely been a little chubby, but he was losing weight quickly, revealing the incredible muscle that had been necessary to move him around in day-to-day life. Tiny was still massive, but he lost the almost baby-like roundness to his face and began to look positively dangerous.

Will still thought they would all be gaunt and skeletal by the time spring arrived, however. His belly continually reminded him he wasn’t getting enough food for all the labor that was expected of him. He began to have dreams about the meals at his grandfather’s house, especially the ones that the old man had made personally.

He doubted he would ever have the chance to learn any more about magic, but he kept the source of his turyn tightly compressed, and he occasionally practiced the runes his grandfather had taught him. He did it in secret at first, until he realized no one could see the runes besides him. To the others in his tent, it just looked as though he was sitting quietly. He gained a reputation for being quiet and introspective.

It was almost two weeks after Sven’s warning that he found out what the old soldier had been scolding Dave about. Will heard a strange scuffling that roused him from his sleep. The tent was dark, so he wasn’t sure what time it was, but he could see dark shapes moving nearby. It looked as though someone had been wrapped in something and was struggling.

Will sat up. The back wall of the tent had been unpegged, and several dark shapes were dragging a figure wrapped in a blanket out through it.

“Don’t get up. He ain’t worth it,” advised Sven’s voice quietly.

“Who?” whispered Will.

“Wilson,” answered the old soldier. “Looks like some of them got tired of his bullshit.”

“What are they going to do?”

“Probably just beat the shit out of him. Depends how much they hate him. Sometimes people get a little too excited,” said Sven. “Go back to sleep.”

Will kicked off his blanket and began crawling toward the now-loose tent wall.

“Where are you going?” hissed Sven.

“He’s in our squad,” said Will, unable to think of another