Excerpt: The Knife's Edge

The evenly spaced torches guttering in their iron brackets cast irregular shadows on the stone walls of the corridor, giving the Accommodation Block the impression of a prison. Heavy wooden doors lined the walls on either side of the hallway, leading to small square rooms containing two bunks on one wall, a wood workbench and a pair of shelves containing clothes. Further adding to the dungeon-like atmosphere of the Block were the residents. Boys of all ages, ranging from lads of nine or ten to grown men past thirty, all dressed in identical grey tunics and pants all standing at attention lined the walls, staring directly ahead. An older man wearing more conventional clothing was patrolling the aisle, addressing one or two of the men as he went, pointing out imperfections in the accommodations or attire with a sharp word or cuff to the younger boys.
‘You there, brown hair! Name and rank!’ Snapped the inspector to a frightened looking youth wearing a rather rumpled tunic.
‘Sir, Torska, cadet second class, sir.’
‘Do you have any explanation for the state your quarters are in, Cadet?’
‘No.’ Torska flinched. ‘No sir.’
The sound of the inspector’s blow echoed along the utterly silent corridor.
‘I would advise you to get your room in order then Cadet, unless you want some extra testing?’ He said, his voice low and unpleasantly menacing.
‘No sir.’ Torska said, staring down at the pattern of hairline cracks in the stone floor. ‘I’ll get it straightened up right away.’
‘See that you do,’ the inspector said over his shoulder. ‘I’ll be sending someone to check.’
The Cadet stood back to attention, stepping stiffly back into the line of anonymous grey uniforms.
The boy to Torska’s right whistled under his breath, ‘That’s a nice bruise you took for me. Thanks for not telling him!’
‘You owe me one Kye. No, more than one. This is the fourth time I’ve taken the blame for you. If you can’t keep your gear neat by inspection time, I’m not going to cover your backside anymore. I mean it this time.’
Kye chuckled. ‘An empty threat if I’ve ever heard one. What would you do if I got moved to the Cages, huh? You wouldn’t last a day without me.’
‘Whatever. The only reason I’m keeping you around in our block is because I’m afraid my new partner might smell worse than you do.’
Kye laughed again, earning him a rude hand signal from one of the older recruits across the aisle, which he carelessly returned.
The voice of the inspector boomed down the long corridor as he dismissed the lines of uniformed men back to their rooms, followed by the bang of the door at the end of the hall as he left. After the echoes of the door had faded, conversations broke out along the length of the hall as the grey clothed assembly filed back into their appointed rooms for the night.
Torska followed Kye back into their room, closing the door behind him with the familiar click of the lock closing them in until morning. He shuffled tiredly over to the desk, pulling his tunic over his head and folding it carefully. Kye undressed, throwing his tunic nonchalantly onto the shelf behind him. Mumbling something less-than-complimentary about the inspector, he climbed into the top bunk, curling up under the blanket.
‘Do you think we’ll have combat drills tomorrow?’ Torska asked hopefully as he folded Kye’s tunic, setting it back on the shelf next to his own.
‘Probably. You know the old bastard; he’ll almost definitely get a bunch of Cadets sparring with him who he’s planning on beating the stuffing out of. I think he enjoys it.’
‘I hope we get weapons training not sparring. Faren said that we would be allowed to use the crossbows again tomorrow.’
‘I reckon he’s right,’ Kye mused, ‘They’re nicer than regular longbows for hitting a target accurately. A lot harder to get through a checkpoint or something like that though; can’t exactly claim that you’re a hunter with one of them.’
Snuffing out the candle, Torska crawled into the lower bunk, yawning loudly. ‘Kye, if you snore again I’m going to stab you in drills tomorrow.’
The older boy laughed again. ‘Good night to you to Tor.’