Horde (Razorland #3)(65)

In the mess, I found my men all sitting together, including Stalker’s scouts. They waved me over to join them. I brought my food, surprised by their camaraderie. Both success and failure created bonds, I supposed, and we’d seen our share of each while we traveled.

“Does anyone know why we’re getting VIP treatment?” Tully wanted to know.

“What’s a VIP?” I was glad Stalker asked, because I didn’t know, either.

“Very important person.” Morrow grinned. “I might’ve had something to do with that. Between my account of the treaty and the talking Freak, they think we can move mountains.”

“Deuce especially,” Spence noted.

I mumbled a curse. “What did you tell them?”

“So what’s the plan for the spring campaign?” Thornton interrupted, changing the subject.

They took it for granted we’d be going out again—that we wouldn’t rest on our laurels once the cold weather passed. In all honesty, I had no grand scheme, but I didn’t care to disappoint them. So I considered while I ate my breakfast, listening to them swap jests. Fade sat beside me, quiet, but not in a sad or brooding way, more quietly watchful, the way he’d been before the Freaks took him.

“Scouting first,” I said in the first lull. “After the thaw. To plan, I need intel on how much of the horde survived the winter. Fortunately, the Muties aren’t as good at strategy yet.”

“Yet,” Tully muttered.

I nodded at her. “Who knows how fast they’ll catch on? Once we know how many are left and where they’re headed, we can decide what to do.”

Nobody laughed or said that twelve soldiers couldn’t make a difference. We already had.

“You know my favorite part of this?” Spence grinned as he asked the question.

I shook my head. “What?”

“We’re all off the regular duty rosters. That means no midnight watches, no patrols outside the fence, no cooking, cleaning the bathhouse, or working in the animal sheds.”

Thornton smirked. “That is a boon. I can’t remember the last time I had an easy winter.”

“If anyone complains,” Morrow put in, “tell them you’re part of Company D.”

I glanced at Tegan, who shook her head. “I heard it, but I don’t know what it means.”

“It’s our squad name,” Morrow said.

“Who came up with it?” Stalker asked.

The storyteller’s expression grew crafty. “The men who want to join up. I’ve been spreading the word about our success, and they decided the squad should be named after Deuce.”

I suspected there might be more to say, but he didn’t, and I was too delighted at learning we had more potential recruits to pursue the matter. That day, ten men approached me quietly and asked whether I’d consider letting them volunteer when we marched out for the second time, Harry Carter among them. He’d wanted to come before, but he wasn’t strong enough. Whether it was the first taste of success or the idea of getting off the duty roster, I wasn’t sure, but I told all of them that they were welcome. The following night, I spoke to five more.

A week later, Zach Bigwater approached me. He was the only member of his family to survive the fire, and for a while, I didn’t know whether he’d make it. For weeks, he didn’t speak and it was a chore for Tegan to get him to eat. But he came to me that afternoon.

“I want to join Company D,” he said without preamble.

“Why?”

“Because I’m tired of feeling helpless.”

“I think you need to tell me what happened in Salvation.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “So many people died because of me.”

“The town was under siege. It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was,” he said heavily. “I ran and hid. I was paralyzed when the walls came down. I should’ve told somebody sooner about the tunnel, but I couldn’t make myself move, even as people died all around me. I’m a coward.”

His actions didn’t recommend him as a volunteer, but I thought I understood why he wanted to fight. “And you’re looking to redeem yourself now, prove something?”

“If it’s possible,” he whispered.

“Then welcome aboard.” I’d keep an eye on him, but I couldn’t turn anyone away.

The number of fresh volunteers trickled off as the weeks wore on, and the snow piled higher. During the cold months, I kept my men sharp. I asked for—and received—an indoor training yard. The colonel responded with her typical ambivalence … and put us in the cowshed. With the animals in their stalls, there was room for us to spar … and I pushed the others, myself as well. We drilled hard, practiced fighting as a group, worked out silent command signals and battle strategies for all kinds of scenarios. Word got out about our sessions, and the men who had asked to join up, but were not yet officially part of Company D, worked in their off hours, concerned about keeping up with us.

By the time the snow started to melt, we were all stronger, and Tegan was a wonder with her staff, banded properly with metal for optimal impact. All over Soldier’s Pond, they called us an elite unit, which meant we were really good at fighting.

To my astonishment, I trotted out Silk’s old lectures. I think she’d be pleased. “Don’t waste your energy. Kill quickly. We’ll be battling superior numbers, so save your strength. No showing off, just take your opponent down, then move on to the next.”