Page 5 of Fly to Fury
From this far away, the flatlands weren’t visible past allthe buildings and stands of trees. But the Wall stretched high into the sky in a crackling blue display of power.
“The third section of the fort is the infantry’s operating base built below the bluffs. The infantry units rotate back there when they are relieved from the front. There are proper barracks, mess, officer quarters, a field hospital, and more.” The lieutenant gestured to the east again. He paused in talking for a moment as a truck rumbled past them.
Fieran covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve as dust billowed around them. A few of the flyboys behind him coughed.
Lt. Busher indicated the line of large buildings on their right. “The heart of Fort Defense is the headquarters section. These are the offices and quarters for the highest commanding officers stationed here, the main hospital for caring for the wounded before they are sent back to either Escarland or Tarenhiel for longer convalescence, and the military command headquarters.”
Some of the buildings farthest to the south were entirely built of stone while the buildings closest to them were clearly of elven design with trees growing at the corners. Farther along the road stretched buildings set on stone foundations but otherwise made of wood or metal.
Rising above these buildings, just visible over the roofs, were three flagpoles. As Fort Defense lay within Escarland, the Escarlish flag had the place of honor on the central flagpole. But unlike at Fort Linder where the other two flags were slightly lower, here all three flags flapped at equal height, signifying the joint operations of Fort Defense.
Dacha was likely somewhere in that cluster of buildings. Perhaps Uncle Julien and Aunt Vriska, if they weren’t in Kostaria meeting with Uncle Rharreth. Even Uncle Weylind might be here at Fort Defense.
Their whole group reached a wooden platform next to a narrow-gauge rail. A trolley-style train—only three cars long with a small magically-powered train engine to power it—rested next to the platform.
“Oh, good. The tram is here.” The lieutenant motioned to it. “Hop on.”
Fieran waited while his flyboys, elven pilots, and mechanics piled into one of the cars. A few more men wandered to the platform and climbed into some of the other cars.
Once everyone else was inside, Fieran climbed into the tram car. It was rather packed with all his men and women in one tram car, and Fieran joined those standing in the center, hanging onto the leather straps dangling from the ceiling much like Aldon’s underground trains.
After five more minutes, the tram shuddered into movement. It trundled past the airstrip on one side and the main hospital on the other. Then the whole thing tilted rather alarmingly as the tram headed down the steep side of the bluff toward the flatlands closer to the river.
The lieutenant stood at the front of the tram and gestured at the windows. “Ahead of us are the final two sections of Fort Defense. To the left, you can see the train station and docks. To the right, you’ll find the officer’s mess, commissary, and what we call ‘Little Aldon,’ which is basically a small town, complete with various taverns, cafés, eateries, and a theater.”
“Now that sounds more like it,” Pretty Face called from somewhere in the back, though Fieran couldn’t see him in the packed tram car.
The lieutenant pressed his mouth in a thin line for a moment, as if he didn’t appreciate the interruption. “Anyway, the train station, docks, Little Aldon, headquarters, andair operations are all connected by trams. You’ll be taking this particular tram frequently, as the mess is down the bluff from your quarters by the airfield. Roads run between all the parts of the base, and if you’re walking, you’ll need to watch for everything from horses to trucks.”
Fieran ducked to better peek out the windows as the tram leveled out, passing between various buildings. Dar Goranth and Fort Linder together would have been lost inside of the sprawl that was Fort Defense.
The tram shuddered to a halt next to another platform. As they all piled out, Lt. Busher pointed out the mess and the commissary, even as they headed for the larger warehouses.
Lt. Busher led them to a large, metal-sided building with a smaller, stone building connected to it. The armory, it seemed.
As they neared, what seemed to be rhythmic shouting echoed from inside. A few men in green army fatigues moved about just outside the structure, including one man who was down on his stomach, swishing his arms through a sand pit near the double doors.
Fieran eyed the soldier, who was attempting to keep his rifle out of the sand even as he squirmed on his stomach. Was the man pretending to swim? And was he murmuring to his rifle?
Lt. Busher opened one of the double doors but stopped short at the cacophony blasting from inside.
Ranks of men stood along one side of the open space. They held their rifles over their heads in both hands as they shouted in unison, “This is a weapon. It is not a gun. I am a real boy.”
On the other side of the room, soldiers were moving about. Some held their rifles as if dancing with them. Otherswalked with their rifles held out to their sides, as if on a promenade. Still more sat on the floor across from their rifles, as if sharing a meal.
A sergeant hurried up to Lt. Busher and Fieran, saluting. “Sirs. Pardon the noise. A unit of new recruits has arrived.”
Lt. Busher eyed the soldiers over his clipboard. “I heard Forts Charibert and Frielan have maxed out their facilities for basic training.”
“What are they doing, exactly?” Fieran gestured to the soldiers pantomiming all kinds of random stuff with their weapons. Was that soldier over there kissing his rifle? A drill sergeant marched up to that soldier and yelled at him for kissing on the first date.
“They are dating their rifles, sir.” The sergeant somehow managed to say that with a straight face. “They weren’t treating their weapons properly.”
“Ah.” No need for more of an explanation than that. Fieran well-remembered getting issued their rifles at basic training. Their drill sergeant had them take their rifles apart, then toss all the parts across the room. They’d had to scramble to try to put their rifles back together. None of them had managed it.
“Sergeant, this is Capt. Laesornysh and his squadron. They will need rifles, at least for the humans.” Lt. Busher gestured to the flyboys behind Fieran.
The sergeant nodded and pointed to the front of the space, where a long counter stretched, manned by a mix of trolls, elves, and humans in their various army uniforms. The counter was divided into various stalls labeled A through I. “Humans are issued weapons in lines A through C. Elves in lines D through F.”
