Damn this training, Jan thought. Damn the Homeguard to the third pit of hell. They wouldn’t be fighting in the mountains anyway; their job was to stay close in and around Brownlock Keep. There were no mountains there.
Yet he could not even complain. He was merely a trainee, risking his neck and putting his life on the line for the honor of serving under the banner of the Brownlocks. Already, practically two-thirds of the training cadre had chosen to defer, owing to the highly demanding task given to them today.
Just a couple of hours ago, Lord Tarence Brownlock himself had arrived; they saw his banner and personal guard arrive from one of the midway points.
I damn well hope our Sir Lord had a great feast at breakfast, Jan thought, and started to climb again. Ten-score feet more, and he’d be at the peak. He would be the first one there, and he could show that he was tough as nails and deserving of a roster spot in the Homeguard.
That is, he would’ve reached it, but an arrow went zipping past his head and into a rock face to his left.