Jonis, Rowan Erlking [first e reader txt] 📗

it was really stupid of you to mouth off in class and then do this.”

Jonis averted his eyes at first, but then he turned and faced the sergeant. “Then what do you suggest I do? Let that man bully me? I’ll shut up in class and not upset the teacher anymore with the truth, but I can’t let that man stomp on me or he’ll keep doing it.”

A hard slap struck his ear. The ringing could not block out the drill sergeant’s shouts, though.

“…dare you! You are lucky to even be allowed here! You are not human, and therefore you do not deserve a human’s rights. You will let him eat your food if he wants it. You will apologize to your instructor, and you will run seven miles tonight!”

There was silence.

“Respond recruit!” The drill sergeant’s voice boomed.

“Yes, Drill Sergeant, sir.” But on Jonis’s face was a glare. His glowing blue eyes were sharp and cold.

“Go! Seven miles!” The sergeant pointed out the doors.

Jonis turned and marched out the doors. He started his run immediately, pacing himself. Oprin had already gone ahead. The others waited for orders, many of them grinning with triumph over the boy.

“Out by the mountains, over the grassy hills, out in the starry sky above the forest stills, whispers the wind so low blowing the heather so, in the darkness where I have met my sweet love and firm regret. Singing ooh.” Jonis jogged along the fence, leaving his troop behind. However, some perked their ears, hearing the echo of his song as the sun lowered over the treetops. “Out in the starry space, there is a lovely place, where people want to go away from ills below, up in the deep blue sky beyond where birds do fly. In the brightness I will meet my sweet love and bliss complete. Singing ooh….”

 

Two hundred pushups. Jonis and everyone fell into bed feeling sore and tired. Closing their eyes, most were gone as soon as their heads hit the pillow. Jonis shut his, but only had vivid dreams of a Cordril hunter now taking on a Gole. He jumped awake, startled by the uncanny echo of firecrackers in his head. Sweating, Jonis looked around. The room was silent.

Flopping back to his pillow, Jonis moaned.

He closed his eyes again, forcing his thoughts to keep still.

The morning horn trumpeted.

Moaning, many men rolled over, covering their heads.

Jonis blinked open his eyes. “Not fair.”

Chapter Seven: To Pain

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is no such thing as accidental magic.

 

 

 

 

After the first few rough weeks, Jonis had gotten used to one hundred pushups. Perhaps that was why his drill sergeant was now making them do two hundred daily. Early rising, the troop was now trained to do exactly what the drill sergeant called. No longer just marching for hours on end, they were now made to crawl over the war fields under barbed wire, carrying a wooden rifle.

Oprin left Jonis alone. He had learned not to touch the Cordril. And unable to get gloves from the office, he remained incapable of doing anything about it.

Of course, the troop resented having a Cordil among them. Though Temis and Korin still talked to him, they did not associate with Jonis in their free time—which was fine with Jonis. He had not had any real friends growing up anyway. And though he always felt a pang of loneliness from it, it did not stop him from doing what he always had done. In his off-hours, he went back to studying his scrolls so he could be a magister.

“What are you reading?” the large man that slept in bed to Jonis’s left asked one day. By this time Jonis had learned his name—Emrit.

Jonis lifted up the scroll for him to see. “It’s a cure for toe fungus. You use it on your feet, and you wash the floor with it. I found it yesterday. I was hoping to use it when they make us clean out the latrines.”

Emrit leaned over, squinting at the writing. “But what language is that in?”

“Ours,” Jonis replied. But then he tilted his head as he examined it. “Only this is about a thousand-year-old script. The wording has changed too.”

“How can you read that?” Emrit shook his head at him. “You are only a kid.”

Deciding it was a bad idea to explain the whole memory thing, Jonis just shrugged and said, “My dad passed it on to me. Look, do you want to make this with me? It is real easy, and I am tired of that fungus stuff on my feet. I’m starting to bleed between my toes. I never had that problem until I came here.”

Nodding, Emrit handed over some paper and a pen. “Transcribe it, would you. I can’t read that, and I don’t know if we can get the ingredients.”

Jonis smiled, accepting this first friendly gesture. He took the paper and started to write.

“In the modern language please,” Emrit tapped the paper edge.

Blushing, Jonis crossed it out. “Sorry. I’ve gotten so used to writing in that old script.” He scratched out the ingredient list and the portions. Raising his eyebrows, Jonis sighed. “It takes iodine. I wonder if the general will let me take my bottle out. It has highly concentrated crystals in it, very useful.”

He handed Emrit the paper. Emrit folded it and put it into his pocket. Jonis returned the pen, rolling the scroll to the next herbal remedy listed, reading silently.

Others were playing cards on their beds. Temis sat on his bed, quietly munching on snacks his mother had sent him. Korin was doing sit-ups, looking a great deal leaner than when he had first arrived. Oprin and his pals were not to be found. Emrit glanced at it all then leaned across the space between their beds, whispering to Jonis, “Can you teach me some of that?”

Jonis blinked, looking up. “You want me to teach you how to be a magister?”

Emrit hushed him, whispering lower. “No…not exactly. But, in my town there is a magister that charges a lot for simple cures and demon wards. If I could just know a few things when I go back, you know, I’m hoping I can be sent there for my post when we finish training—but if I could just know how to handle the little things, then maybe people don’t have to be charged so much.”

“Would you like it if I copied these off for you? Is that what you mean?” Jonis asked.

Emrit nodded. “I can read well enough to follow the instructions. You just tell me what to do.”

This time Jonis looked around. He knew Emrit had kept his distance like the rest of the men because no one wanted to be seen consorting with a demon. Shrugging, Jonis said just above a whisper, pretending to ignore the large man, “I can copy all that I have studied. I’ll leave my notes on my pillow. You can take them. Ok? I pretty much memorize what I read anyway.”

Smiling, then quickly stifling it, Emrit leaned back on his bed, paying more attention the book he had open there. “Sounds good. And thank you.”

Jonis took out a pad of paper and pen and started to write.

 

They did latrine duty every other week, rotating days with other troops. Emrit obtained the supplies for the fungus killer, including the iodine, which he got from the doctor; and they brewed in it the latrines when the others had finished scrubbing and were resting in the barracks. Most of the tools they used to make the brew, Emrit borrowed from the kitchen. He was also the one who returned them when the job was complete. When they had gone back to their regular duties, neither one mentioned what they had done. Despite this, their work did not go unnoticed.

The first to discover the improvement was the senior troop, since they showered first. They noticed the peculiar odor, but continued to wash not knowing the reason for it—that is until one man remarked about a strange tingling sensation on the soles of his feet. Someone called for Lieutenant Chappel. Lieutenant Chappel called for the general. All of them waited as General Gomrey summoned the doctor as well as another specialist to inspect the change in the room. All three puzzled over it until the doctor said offhand, “Perhaps that is what Recruit Yarran wanted the iodine for.”

General Gomrey turned with a look of incredulity at the doctor. “You lent medical supplies to a recruit?”

The doctor merely shrugged. “I thought nothing of it at the time. He had a couple bruises, and he looked intelligent. I didn’t give him very much of it.”

They gazed at the floor again.

“But what is that smell?” asked Lieutenant Chappel, wrinkling up his nose.

“Iodine and vinegar, I think,” the doctor replied. “A few other spices maybe.”

“Why is it on the floor?” the general asked with bite.

They heard a cry from across the room. At first it sounded like someone had hurt himself. They rushed over. But as they stared at the officer who was peering at the soles of his feet, they realized he was not hurt but pleasantly surprised.

“Look at my feet!” the man declared, groping between his toes. “They’re healed!”

The doctor crouched down to take a closer look. Sure enough, he could see the skin that had a somewhat red and raw look to it, rapidly mending into a healthy pink. “Magic.”

“Who did you say borrowed the iodine?” the chemical specialist the general had brought with him asked.

“Recruit Emrit Yarran,” said the doctor, giving a brisk nod.

General Gomrey narrowed his eyes, stroking his chin in thought. “Yarran? Yarran? Who is that?”

Thinking back, Lieutenant Chappel nodded to himself as if the entire military camp roster was in his head. “Tall fellow. Muscular. From a small town near Lake Riken.”

“Is he a registered magic user?” General Gomrey turned, peering back at the doctor. “A born wizard maybe?”

The doctor shook his head. “I never saw anything of that in him. Intelligent man, though I think he is more likely to be physical in nature rather than dabble in magic.”

“This is herbalist skill,” the specialist said with a nod.

The general immediately looked up. Nodding slowly to himself, he muttered, “Herbalist skill. Herbalist.”

Turning right to Lieutenant Chappel, the general ordered, “I want you to arrange an award for this Recruit What’s-his-name—”

“Emrit Yarran, General Gomrey Sir.”

“Yes, that man.” The general nodded with haste. “Give him full recognition for the job. I want the praise to be public. Then we will see what he does.”

“Pardon?” Lieutenant Chappel puzzled at the specifics to his command.

“You heard me. Now go. And find out who his friends are.”

Then the general turned and marched out of the latrines.

The doctor exhaled, nodding to himself also and walked out after him.

 

That evening at roll call before nightly duties, Lieutenant Chappel called Emrit from his troop. The recruits’ eyes were wide when he stepped from his position in the lineup. He walked forward with some trepidation.

“I hear you are to be praised for your service to the camp in eliminating a terrible fungus problem in the latrines.”

Emrit’s face turned red, almost as if it were a stoplight. Jonis peered up at him, trying not to look suspicious despite the growing knots in his stomach. Somehow there was something accusatory