Teo

 Teodorq sunna Nagarajan has joined an expedition tasked with evaluating the"serving tray" as a suitable observation post for the Nooby Empire. The bulk of the party consists of a squad of rangers, who ride the borderlands tracking down outlaws, bandits and other malefactors. In this scene, Sharn Nickle is a part-time deputy marshal who drives the chow wagon. He is a settler, whose ancestors had once fled the Empire.

 

The stormwind howled and fanned the rain horizontal. It lifted cloaks and punchos as if it deeply resented the oilcloth keeping their wearers dry. The canvas cover on the chow wagon whipped free of its bows and snapped maniacally,

And the rangers began to sing.

It was hard to make out the words, or even the tune, as the wind scattered them like so much detritus, but Teo paused while helping Sharn secure his cover and tried to make it out.

We’ll track through the night

Or by sunlight so hot,

For we are the Rangers

And you poor sods are not.

We’ll turn our face toward snow and ice,

Toward wind, rain, dust, or heat (yes, sizzling heat)

For we are the Rangers

And never know defeat.

“Catchy tune,” said Teo as the wind died off and the rain softened to a steady cascade. “Too bad they didn’t catch it.”

Sharn yanked a stay-rope tight, glanced up the column, then back to the task at hand. “Imperials are full of themselves.”

Teo shrugged. “Long as there’s enough self to fill ‘em. Or are they all song and no stunt?”

“And it’s not even true,” Sharn complained. “Rangers know defeat. At the siege of Fall River during the Civil War, an entire troop was wiped out to the last man.”

 “Ain’t that generally what ‘wiped out’ means?" He thought Sharn unlearned on the nature of defeat.

At the Bluffs of Sinjin Trell

This is the third in a series of tidbits; a continuation of the journeys of Teodorq sunna Namarajan.

The Journeyman:
At the Bluffs of Sinjin Trell

by Michael F. Flynn

“I long to journey endlessly, always in search of something new.”

- Enrique Vila-Matas

#

A strategic bluff

TEODORQ SUNNA NAGARAJAN THE IRONHAND sat astride his horse in the fore of his regiment and studied on the situation that confronted him.

The Roy’s Own Savage Archers were arrayed on the extreme left of the Royal and Imperial Army of Cuffland, well-placed for a sweep around the enemy’s flank. But that worked best where there were flanks around which to sweep; not so well when facing the Bluffs of Sinjin Trell, which shouldered over against a salt-water bay and blocked the direct route to the enemy capital.

Most of the Field Army was concentrated west of the Bluffs where the land flattened out and provided a more open, if more roundabout, route to the objective. Unfortunately, all the bridges across the River Sane had been blown down and the Prawn Home Army was entrenched opposite Dolorous Ford.

That would have been a fine location for his regiment, with scope for its special weapons and tactics. Which raised the fascinating question of why the general had posted him here, where his troopers were practically useless.

He had positioned his regiment along and behind a low ridge, facing the Bluffs across a scrubby flatland which the Prawns had thoughtfully cleared of any obstacles and festooned with distance markers for the artillery that crowned the heights. It was good land for a cavalry charge and would have been even better had it not been a killing field for artillery.

Teo studied the obstacle carefully through his look-glass.

“It doesn’t go all the way through, does it?” he asked his assistant colonel, Lar Rigo della Hepplewhite. “That there canyon. It looks like it might, but I don’t think it does.”

The Lar shook his head. “The ‘Prawns were never much for sharing maps with us. Probably thought we would use them to invade their country one day.”

Teo grunted. “Do we at least know its name?”

“They call it Belay dla Morth, ‘The Valley of Death’.”

Teo lowered his glass and looked at his Number One. Then he glanced toward his chief of scouts, Sammi o’ th’ Eagles. “That can’t be good.”

Sammi and he hailed from the western continent; but the hillman was pale where Teo was bronze and his eyes appeared slanted where Teo’s were round. In contrast, Lar Rigo – and indeed, most of the regiment –were native to the eastern continent and their skin was green and grew leafy “ruffs” round their necks. The ancient wizards of the long ago had altered the bodies of men to sundry ends, and the greenies had been enabled to supplement their diets by “drinking” sunlight.

The ‘Prawns in the opposing army were likewise green. Indeed, the Cuffs descended from refugees who had fled north into the peninsula after the Fall of Old Iabran. The Roy of Cuffland had as his stated purpose the reunification of the green race, but no one supposed that his ambitions ended with that, and several others of the Great States were now watching developments closely.

The ancient wizards had undoubtedly altered Teo’s ancestors as well, but to what end – other than splendid good looks and martial prowess – he did not hazard a guess.

Teo gestured to Sammi. “Why don’t yuh skulk it out over there on the left and see if there’s a way around them Bluffs. I’m somewhat mindful of charging down that there canyon with all them guns up on top. It’s like the cleavage between two breasts. It’s invitin’ as all get out; but…”

“…But might be trap,” the hillman answered. “You think general order you there?”

“He wouldn’t dare,” said Lar Rigo. “It’s near treason to throw away a regiment like that.”

“Yah, and it sorta makes me wishful of being around for the court-martial.” 

continued...

Through Madness Gap

Analog Science Fiction & Fact
Check out Michael Flynn's latest Journeyman installment on the Analog site now—Teo & Sammi are up to their latest adventure, and we can't wait to see where they go next....

Above is the interior art for "The Journeyman." An excerpt appears for the time being at the ANALOG site:
http://www.analogsf.com/current-issue/story-excerpt2/

Flynn Stories in the Queue

Coming to you in Analog

TOF's great opus "Nexus", a novella length something or other, has the cover in the March/April issue of Analog. Woo Hoo.

Also on the Analog web site is an extensive excerpt from the aforesaid tale. Read it and weep. Or else go out and buy the issue on sale now.

Future expectations 

relating to Things Flynnic, dates subject to change:

• Sep/Oct: "Viktor Frankenstein's Bar and Grill and 24-Hour Roadside Emporium"
• Nov/Dec: "Laminated Moose Zombies and Other Road Maintenance Problems"
  (w/Dennis M. Flynn)
• Jan/Feb: "The Journeyman: Through Madness Gap"

In other news

A German contract is pending for a German-language translation of Eifelheim. I can't wait to see how they translate "Eifelheim".....

Among the Great States

TOF has previously cautioned Faithful Reader with the opening scene from "The Journeyman: Among the Great States." He now proposes to daunt you with a further tease. Teodorq has been brought to Cuffland to form and take command of the Roy's Own Savage Archers, trained in the horse archery and compound bow of Teo's homeland. One night, to escape the importunings of his major officers, he has bedded down in the grass behind the colonel's quarters.
#####
He felt more at home sleeping under the open sky anyway. So he found a shadowed location behind the building he had been assigned, doffed his boots, rolled up his tunic for a pillow, and stretched out in a swale in the ground.

He was awakened three hours later, to judge by the position of the stars, and he lay very still with his eyes closed until he could determine what had awakened him. It was a two-moon night and their light would reflect on his opened eyes. So his ears had to do the work for him.

He made out a jumble of whispers.

(Hope he sleeps sound,) said one.

(Which window is the bedroom?) said another.

(Think we kin open it without awaken him?) That was a third man.

(I still say we should just kick in the front door,) said the first.

(That would a-give him a warning.)

(That’s what this is supposed to be, fool.)

(You think this man, he is the right one?)

(Who cares? Cain’t be more’n a handful of his kind on all of Cuffland.)

This struck Teo as a conversation of more than passing interest, so he eased from the ground and padded on his bare feet through the grass to the side of the colonel’s residence. There he saw three men bundled in shadow-ware: black trews and black blouses with hoods drawn up over their heads. Their green faces barely interrupted the darkness of their silhouettes. Teodorq stood behind them as a fourth man and peered over their shoulder.

(What’s his name again?) whispered the second man.

(Who cares?) said the first. (A job’s a job.)

(Name’s ‘Dorq,) said the third and snickered.

The window slid open and the first man expressed satisfaction. He stood a-toe and peered into the room. (The hell! He ain’t in his bed!)

Teo tapped the third man on the shoulder and whispered to him. (Maybe he likes to sleep outdoors like a savage.)

The third man stood very still while he did some mental arithmetic. Then he turned about, alerting the others. “I found him,” he announced. That wasn’t quite right, but Teo did not correct him.

The other two shushed him, but he pointed and they noticed Teo standing with them.

“What are you doing here?” demanded the first man.

Teo considered the matter. “Stopping you, I think. Why, am I wrong?”

The stalkers were regaining their confidence and arranged themselves in a line. They were fourteen stone each, most of it in the chest and shoulder and none of it fat. The way they held their short “pilli” clubs suggested expertise in their use.

“There's three of us,” the first man pointed out.

“I see the problem,” Teddy said. “Do you need more time? To get help, I mean. I wouldn't want folks to say this fight weren't fair.”

“Why, I'll knock you clean out of your socks!”

Teodorq laughed. “I don't think you can do that.”

His eyes narrowed. “And why not?”

“Cause I ain't wearin' any.”

The guy couldn't help it. He looked down at Teddy's bare feet. That positioned his head for a knee-kick to his face. The kick knocked him back and Teddy put a left to the side of his head, then a right to his brisket. He fell without a word.

Teddy threw his arms out in frustration. “Now there's only two of you,” he complained.

There was a moment of silence, then the man on the left shrugged in resignation. “We already got paid.”

“I understand,” Teo told him. “Yuh got it to do.”

They made the usual mistake of two men attacking one. They separated to take him from either side. But that put them out of support of one another and a maxim of combat was never to divide your forces in the face of a superior enemy. Teodorq did not consider it brag to count himself the superior force, just plain fact.

What two men facing one never seemed to expect was that the one would attack the two, but Teo never did see much sense in waiting around. He turned to the man he judged the greater threat and went at him “fist and foot” as they said on the Great Grass, and left the second man isolated in his rear. He began counting.

The right hand man expected many things, but to be punched in the side of the head with Teodorq’s left foot was not one of them; nor that this self-same leg would block the pilli. He found himself effectively stopped by Teo’s flank attack and dropped stunned from the temple-kick just as Teo completed his count and spun to catch the second man by the blouse and throw him with a hip roll through the air to land with a whoosh of breath on his back.

All three men were groaning on the ground, clutching at sundry parts of their anatomy. The first two men were out. The third was gasping for air. Teo went to stand above him.

“Who paid yuh, if yuh don’t mind my asking?”

“Shoon Buliq.”

“Never heard of him. Why’d he want a beat-down on me?”

The man sucked in another breath. “He don’t know you from Grosbeak’s dam. He’s a broker works out of Lodervee. Don’t know who contracted him.”

“Hunh. If it ain’t too personal a question, how much he paying yuh?”

The bully-boy grimaced. “All things considered, not near enough.”
###

Update!

The June 2016 ANALOG contains TOF's novella "The Journeyman: In the Great North Wood." An excerpt amounting to roughly half the story is at the ANALOG site.

Started work on "The Journeyman: Among the Great States," but typing one-handed, and left-handed at that is fatiguing.
 

not TOF, but similar

BONE NEWS. Still typing one handed, but the humerus is now re-set and bolted to a plate designed to delight metal detectors at airports everywhere. Working on the R part of the RICE paradigm: to wit, Rest. TOF presently has a Frankenstein zipper of surgical staples running from the shoulder to near the bicep, roughly the length shown in the picture to the right.

For those interested in ORIF, click on the link.

Among the Great States

TOF has begun on a whim a story entitled "The Journeyman: Among the Great States." Its opening scene runs as follows.

“Done hung around and sung around
This old town too long.”
– ancient proverb

#
A bird in the hand
Teodorq sunna Nagarajan the Ironhand always woke quickly. It was what the men of the Great Grass called a “survival skill,” since those who did not often did not. In this case he awoke on satin pillows (which was unusual) even before the woman began to shake him (which was not).

“My husband!” she whispered. “He is home!”

“Will you introduce us?” Teodorq asked, for he had not yet mastered the differences in etiquette between the Great States and the lands in which he had hitherto journeyed.

“You fool!” she scolded him. “He is a master duelist! He has slain seven lovers of mine!”

Teo was a quick study and from this he gathered that a dalliance with the Lay Lisspeh dee Oundahfarm was not one with long-term prospects.

“I have some skills at dueling, too,” he promised, and showed her his rapier. She swatted his arm and said she was serious.

Lay Lisspeh, like all the folk of the Great States was green-skinned and smelled faintly of grass. This pleased Teo, who had grown up on the rolling prairies of the western continent and the scent of grass was perfume to his nostrils. She also possessed a frill or ruff around her neck which when aroused rose out like an parasol. He understood from the Wisdoms of this land that their ancient ancestors had in some unknown way “spliced” the power of plants into their bloodlines so they could supplement their diets by “drinking” sunlight.

Teodorq himself was a noble bronze and supplemented his diet by eating cows and drinking beer.

It was the work of a moment to don his kilts and boots and throw his cloak across his shoulders. It was not as though he had had no practice at swift departures.

But when he reached the doorway of the bedroom, a broad shouldered, elegantly-dressed man with a pointed beard stood there with an equally pointed rapier held at ground guard. Teo supposed this to be Lar Oundafarm. He smiled and raised his hand, palm out.

“Hi,” he said in the Plains style.

The man flourished his sword to sky guard. “You have to go through me to get out.”

“Sure,” said Teo, and decked him.

Perhaps the Lar had been expecting a more protracted conversation over the matter, but Teo saw no reason to stretch things out. He hated long good-byes.



#####

Return of the Journeyman

TOF is pleased to announce that "The Journeyman: In the Great North Woods" has been accepted for publication at Analog Science Fiction/Science Fact. Oorah.

Since two scenes have already been teased, perhaps a third is in order?

+++++++++++++++++

Rather than raise questions among the greenies, the princess of Cliffside Keep pretended to be “Anna Overcreek,” a shortgrass woman, with Chum acting as her common-law husband. She had dyed her hair, painted uuli symbols up her arms, and grown her braids to “married” length. There was no Cliffside Keep to be princess of, and House Tiger had been slaughtered in the battle. She had sworn eternal vengeance against House Moose, who had fought that day on the green side.
     “Tavern-gossip claims,” she said, “that Yar Yoodavig and the remnants of the Legion still fly the Tiger-striped banner.”
     Chum sighed and took the bird to the cutting board. “Maybe I can cut out the parts his knife touched. Teo, you can be the taste-tester. Princess,” he answered her unspoken question, “even if we did learn the formula for the thunderpowder like the Yar asked, I’ve no more pigeons and Yoodavig does not advertise his whereabouts.”
     “Oh!” said Teo. “Almost forgot. Saw a moosehead down by the Harbor.”
     The princess turned. “And you slew the treacher not on the spot?”
     “I was busy. Besides, he woulda died without knowing why, and that is a bad death.”
     Sammi looked at him. “There good one?”
     “Nah. Point is, lots of Moosers been to Cliffside Keep over the years, and it’d be a good idea if this guy didn’t get a close look at Anya here.”
     “Until you kill him,” Anya said. She snatched up her bonnet and scarf and stalked out of their rooms. Nor had she neglected to fasten the straps on her scabbards.
     Sammi waited a bit, before following. The three of them were taking turns secretly escorting the princess to the chandlery.
     “Don’t let her see you,” Chum warned.
     “What you expect to see, when Sammi follows?”

Afterward, Teo shook his head. “I thought castrating Mamu after the battle canceled that debt.” He meant the heir of House Moose, to whom Anya had been betrothed. Her refusal, though permitted by custom, had turned Mamu and his House to the greenies.
     Chum winced and stirred the pot. “Mamu shoulda waited to drag her back to Moose Hold before he went all frisky on her.”
     “Or at least disarmed her,” Teodorq suggested.
     “I think that’s why everyone’s supposed to get naked first.”


Teo preferred sleeping on the roof, but he was wakened shortly after drifting off by voices below. He snapped alert and pulled his short-sword from its place inside the bedroll. Slow awakening, no awakening, men said on the Great Grass. He stuck a dagger into his belt in case he had to fight with both hands and a smile on his face in case he didn’t have to fight at all.
     He threw back the roof hatch and the voices below ceased.
     Chum was still at the strew pot, but he had put the hacked-up pheasant aside. In its place he had a plump goose. He was chatting with one of the Big Hat’s minions, who sat with one leg crossed over his knee, though when the hatch door flew open, the fop’s hand had moved on his stick. Teo grunted. These overseamen were not as foolish as they appeared.
     Chum gestured at the goose. “Yo, Teo. That Big Hat you helped this morning gave us the bird.”
The Big Hat, Teo mused, had learned his identity, traced his residence, and knew the pheasant had been ruined in his defense. That was a lot of knowing, even if it had taken him until mid-afternoon to know it.
     Teo slid down the ladder. A rich man’s gratitude is never cause for heel-dragging.
     Mr. Fancy Pants stood and kissed both Teo’s cheeks. “My master, Lar Feddy, is grateful for your actions this morning,” the man said, “and sends this mean and paltry bird as recompense for the magnificent fowl you sacrificed in his protection. He was especially impressed by the grace with which you dispatched the two men. One does not expect polish and style from rude barbarians.”
     Teo scratched his crotch. “Nah, I guess not.”
     “Lar Feddy has made inquiries and has learned that you hire out as a bodyguard.”
     Teo crossed his arms and waited. There might be an evening’s employment out of his morning’s impulse. He wondered how much he dared raise his rates. This Lar Feddy seemed to have deep pockets as well as a big hat. But if he had “made inquiries” he likely knew Teo’s customary fee.
     “The Lar proposes,” the man went on, “to mount an expedition into the Great North Woods in search of antiquities. It will be a dangerous undertaking of several moon-laps duration – there are unpacified tribes, not to mention the usual hazards of a wilderness trek – and he needs a bold man to handle security. We Gay Companions will protect his person, but we want you to organize a crew to guard our digs and campsites. The governor,” he added with no change of expression, “has no soldiers to spare.”
     Nagarajan’s son was not deaf to the sound of opportunity banging with both her fists on his doorpost. He exchanged looks with Chum, and said, “I’ll need a staff: a camp-master, a hunter, a scout, a couple lieutenants.”
     The Gay Companion tossed a poke to Teo, who formed a fair estimate of its contents from its trajectory. “Hire as many as you think needful,” the man said, “up to the limits of that purse. The digging party will include twenty laborers, a cook and quartermaster, doctor, and two overseers as well as the archaeologist and his people.”
     Teo didn’t ask what an archaeologist was. He thought the size of the security detail depended more on the size of the threat than on the size of the threatened. “When do you want us?”
     “It will take half a moon-lap to gather the rest of the party, some of whom are arriving on Fair Zephyr. But plan to come by the governor’s guest house to render daily progress reports. Ask for Eiskwy Naldo.” He indicated himself with a wave of the hand.
     “And what if’n I take this here poke and light a shuck.”
     Eiskwy Naldo smiled and with spare motion whipped his walking stick around so the weighted end halted a bare thumb’s-width from Teodorq’s nose. “You won’t abscond,” the Gay Companion said. “Lar Feddy is a good judge of character. He is seldom wrong; and he is never wrong twice.”
+++++
(c)2015 Michael F. Flynn