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Summary: What Polly and Mal did next. Disclaimer:
The author makes no claim to owning the rights of anything to do with Terry Pratchett or Discworld.
Girl Soldiers
“What are your names?” said Polly. “Your real names, please?” “Er… Rosemary,” one of them began. “I’m Mary,” said the other. “I heard girls were joining, but everyone laughed, so I thought I’d better pretend to – ” “Oh, you can join as men if you want,” said Polly. “We need a few good men.” The girls looked at one another. “You get better swear words,” said Polly. “And the trousers are useful. But it’s your choice.” “A choice?” said Rosemary. “Certainly,” said Polly. She put a hand on a shoulder of each girl, winked at Maladicta and added: “You are my little lads – or not, as the case may be – and I will look after... you.” And the new day
was a great big fish. *** That night, they stopped in an old ramshackle barn, eerily reminiscent of the one Polly and the others had stayed in on their first night as ‘soldiers’. Looking around, she could see Mal was thinking the same thing. Her little lads, Rosemary and Mary, looking nervous and out-of-place. They had, in the end, opted to join as men. It was the power to socks. Another recruit had signed up when the ferry landed, by the name of Anne. She stood with the others, looking exactly how Polly had felt herself on that first night all those months ago. She remembered how Jackrum’s orders and constant busyness had distracted her from the grim strangeness of reality, and moved into Sergeant mode. “Right, recruits!” The girls stood to a terrified attention, their wide eyes and trembling mouths reminding her forcibly of Wazzer. She softened her tone slightly. “We will be stopping here for the night, then moving on to Stawk to pick up your shiny new uniforms.” Mal snorted at this: the recruits moved back a step. “I suggest you enquire of Corporal Maladicta here, how to make scubbo, and then get a good night’s sleep.” She stepped back and let the vampire take over. The newest recruit lifted her hand timidly. “Yes, Private…?” Mal asked. “Sapping, corporal,” she answered. “Er... what is scubbo?” “Well, Private Sapping.” Mal started, flashing a grin at Polly. “It is a most delicious dish, favoured in the Armed Forces for its nutritional properties …” Her clear voice carried on as she explained to the little lads what exactly went into a good pot of scubbo. Rosemary, or Private Wells as she was to be known, turned out to be quite a Shufti when it came to cuisine, and Polly was surprised at what was produced half an hour later. “So,” said Mal casually, as she returned form directing the girls. “Did you ever find out the truth about Jackrum?” Polly stared at her. In the flickering darkness, the vampire stared back, her face a picture of innocence. Of course, Polly thought, of course she knew. She figured me out... and Tonker, when I couldn’t see it. Why shouldn’t she have known about Jackrum? After all, I did… sort of. But even then I had to ask. As she drew her mind back to the present, she noticed Mal was waiting for an answer. Polly couldn’t tell her the whole story, not with the ‘lads’ in hearing distance, so she merely nodded, the look in her eyes saying everything. Maladicta whistled through her teeth softly, her breath forming a mist on the cold evening air. “Well... I suspected it, of course, as you did. But I never was quite sure... That’s why she knew about Froc and the others then.” Polly nodded again, then pulled a tattered object from her pocket. She handed it to Mal: “She sent me this.” The vampire’s eyes widened as she took in the iconograph. “So she her family, then… Scritz, wasn’t it?” “Yep. Son’s an armourer, apparently. Very good swords, according to Jackrum.” Mal laughed. “Yeah, of course, they would be.” They finished their meal in silence, both mentally reliving previous night of firelight and scubbo. When the recruits had successfully cleared up the remains of dinner, Polly once again took charge. “OK, lads. Your barracks are over there, through that door. Blankets to be collected from over here. There will be no need for a watch tonight, so I suggest you take advantage of it. Dismissed!” The girls shuffled off to find the blankets, which were possibly better described as ‘moth holes held together with old yarn’. Still, Polly reflected, it would have to do. They’d learn to appreciate it. She watched them trail through to their sleeping quarters and shut the door. Then she sighed, deeply, and looked over to see Mal watching her, a strange expression on her face. “I believe you’re getting quite fond of you little lads, Sergeant Perks”, she said. “Nonsense, corporal,” said Polly brusquely, then flashed her a quick smile. They stood for a moment looking at each other, before Maladicta shook herself and yawned elaborately. “I know it’s not like me,” she said when she’d finished, “but I think I’ll get some sleep.” She motioned to the smaller room they would be sharing. “You coming?” Polly considered it then shook her head. “Nah, I’ll make sure the fire’s out.” To emphasise this, she took a chair near the flames and stared into them. When she felt Mal move, she looked up again. “Alright, sarge.
Night, then.” As the vampire turned to leave the room, something swung
out from beneath her jacket. As it caught the light of the embers, Polly
saw it was a necklace. Of small, round, shiny things. Of course, she
grinned to herself, the coffee beans! It was good to see the vampire
wouldn’t be taking any chance this time round. *** Polly was woken the next morning by a gentle nudge and a familiar roasting smell. As her eyes focussed, she identified the source of the aroma. Maladicta was making coffee. She realised then that she fallen asleep before the fire, and looked hastily around for any sign of the recruits. Luckily, it seemed they still in their sleeping quarters, so she stood up carefully, not trusting her aching limbs, readily took the proffered cup of saloop from Mal, and strode over to the door. “Alright, lads!” she shouted, outside the door. “I’ll give you to the count of three to get to attention, then I’m coming in!” She heard the usual scrabbling as the girls hastened to their feet and gave them a generous three. They were, after all, still beginners. When she opened the door, she saw they were all looking decidedly unattentive, but that one looked slightly less unattentive than the rest. This was Private Lithgow. “Normally, it is a Corporal’s job to rouse the lads, but as it’s your first day, I thought I’d treat you. Wells! You are in charge of breakfast, since you made such a good job of the scubbo last night.” The girl blushed, even behind her half-stifled yawn. “Sapping, you clear up here, and Lithgow, you look marginally awake – go and see what the Corporal’s about.” Even as she instructed the recruits, Polly had heard the knock on the outer door and felt, rather than heard, Mal rise to answer. After all, as Jackrum would no doubt say, it was a poor sergeant who could not act as if he had eyes in the back of his head. As the soldiers busied themselves, Polly returned to her chair and took a well-used map from her pocket. She and Mal had decided that since they were attracting recruits like moths to a flame, they would form a small regiment and march independently to fight Zlobenia. Prince Heinrich and his chums seemed to have learned their lesson and were staying as far away from Kneck Keep as possible. Instead his armies were marching on Slumm, a large city not far from Munz. It was still close to the Zlobenian border and, as far as the Prince was concerned, technically Zlobenian soil. Yes, Polly would lead her little lads to Slumm and give the Zlobenians what for. Who knows, she might even get to kick the Prince in the ham-and-eggs again. She folded up the map and stuck it back in her pocket. With any luck, they should reach Stawk that day, then the girls would get their uniforms and no doubt feel more like ‘proper soldiers’. As Polly was contemplating this, remembering her own first uniform, Mal sat down on the chair next to her with a thump. “’Nother daft bugger,” was all she said. Polly followed her line of vision to the corner nearest the door. There, Private Lithgow stood in animated conversation with a tall, rather handsome, man, well, boy really. He looked of an age with the girls, perhaps a bit younger, and had clearly come to sign up. Sighing, she walked over to him. “Hello, lad. Joining up, are we?” He glanced at Lithgow then answered in a trembling voice. “Yes … sir?” “Good, best life there is, in the Army. I trust you’ve kissed the Duchess and taken the IOU?” he nodded. “Then I entrust you to the care of Private Lithgow here, who you seem to be getting along with.” The girl beamed at this. “Oh, one more thing... your name, Private?” “Cartell, Sarge. Adam Cartell.” Polly rejoined Maladicta, watching Privates Lithgow and Cartell out of the corner of her eye. They did seem to be getting along well. Distressingly well. On the way to a large and probably seriously bloody battle was not the time to be forming romantic attachments. “And then there were four”, said Mal of the soldiers, somewhat randomly. “And still mostly girls,” Polly said. “Only Cartell as an exception.” “And he’s younger than he looks. Probably the only reason he isn’t lying dead on some battlefield already,” the vampire said gloomily, then stiffened slightly. “Poll?” she asked, quite tentatively. “D’you think the recruits know I’m a girl?” Polly sat silently, unsure of how to answer, until she spoke again. “It’s just that, well I know they know you are. Even without the uniform and everything, you do have a sort of... femininity.” Polly looked up at her, then, and saw she was blushing. Actually blushing. She couldn’t help but grin at her corporal as she struggled manfully on. “But I, well I fooled you longest of all, didn’t I? And most of the lads probably aren’t familiar with vampire names. Wouldn’t know whether Maladicta was a girl’s or a boy’s …” She trailed off. Her sergeant considered a moment before answering. “They probably don’t think about it, to be honest. Like us, me and Shuft and the rest, we assumed you were male because that’s what you wanted us to believe. But all the same, we thought you were a very pretty vampire lad.” Maladicta almost blushed again, Polly was pleased to note, before sighing. “I guess I’ll just leave it at that then. If they don’t ask, I won’t tell.” “Good idea,” Polly said, standing up. Mal followed her lead then took control. “Right, lads, line up. Sergeant Perks would like to see you before you start the march to Stawk.” The soldiers lined up quickly, facing Polly. She strode up and down in front of them, making sure none of them looked too scared or ill or hungry. “You’ll do,”
she said gruffly in the end, and they breathed a visible sigh of relief.
As they marched out of the barn in groups of two, Lithgow and Cartell
obviously together at the front, Polly turned to grin at Mal. Being
a sergeant was even more fun than Jackrum had made it look! Mal just
watched her with a curious look in her eyes, before returning a perfect
smile. *** As they marched that day, the vampire leading the lads and Polly bringing up the rear, the sergeant couldn’t help reliving the conversation she and Mal had just had. That was one thing about long marches; they certainly gave you plenty of time to think things over. So Maladicta was actually concerned about how the recruits saw her. That was strange, because as she’d been the last to reveal her true gender, Polly had always thought she preferred being thought of as a man. Perhaps she had a romantic interest in someone in the squad, and wanted them to know she was female. Not Cartell; he was far too young, and anyway seemed to have been claimed by Lithgow. And the rest were girls. Polly wrinkled up her nose in thought: it was hard to imagine a vampire being romantically involved with anyone. Although she had entertained ideas of her own in that direction once, back when she thought Mal was a boy. She’d decided that that was because Mal had been the only one to notice the things Polly noticed – she had seemed to have an intelligence not unlike Polly’s own, and besides, she had a sense of humour. No, there had
to be some other reason why the vampire was worried. Perhaps she, like
Polly herself, was determined to make this next part of life’s journey
as herself, and wanted to make sure others knew her true identity. *** They arrived in Stawk in the late afternoon. It was a rundown small town, much like Plotz. In stark contrast to that settlement however, Stawk had inhabitants. Polly thought they had probably moved back in after the truce was agreed with Zlobenia, and were just settling into their old ways of life again. On the march in, she had seen half-ploughed field, and the beginnings of a considerable beet crop. The only thing in the town that was completely up-and-running again was the pub. It was here that Polly led her little lads after they had acquired uniforms. Getting kitted out had been a relatively painless process this time, Polly thought as they approached the inn – perhaps the money the Borogravian Army had saved on wars over the past few months had been put to good use. Perhaps ex-Sergeant Major had had a hand in it. She was woken out of these thoughts by a hand on her arm at the door of the pub. It was Maladicta – her icy fingers seemed to cut through Polly’s flesh, causing tingling through her body. The vampire was staring up at something, unaware of the effect her touch was having on Polly. Slowly, the sergeant moved her eyes up to see what had so startled Mal. It was the pub sign. The flaky writing read ‘The Duchess’. Well, that wasn’t so unusual, was it? There were a lot of pubs in Borogravia with... then she saw the picture. It was newer than the writing: painted, Polly would have guessed, within the last month. Staring out of the Duchess’ familiar portrait, with that slightly unnerving smile on her lips, was Wazzer. Polly gasped, and Mal turned to her; she had recovered form the shock enough to smile her vampire’s smile. “Weird, isn’t
it? Word travels fast. Or perhaps the innkeeper was there. Who knows?”
She motioned for Polly to follow the recruits into the tavern. Shaking
herself, the sergeant moved, noticing as she did so, that Maladicta
had not moved her hand from Polly’s arm. *** A little while later, Sergeant Perks and her corporal sat in one corner of the dusty tavern, poring over the crumpled map. The room was noisy but not yet raucous, and Polly was keeping a close eye on her lads, over on the other side of the room. “So …” Maladicta began, staring at the map. “We’re here …”, she said, pointing at Stawk, “and we want to get to here.” Her finger slid across to Slumm. “We’ll just keep on this track then. OK, sarge? That should lead us straight there.” Mal glanced at Polly, who was gazing at the map, her eyes unfocussed. “You alright, Polly? You seem somewhat... preoccupied.” Polly shook herself again and looked up into the vampire’s face. “Yes,” she answered. “I was just thinking about Wazzer, that’s all. Wondering how she’d feel if she knew there was a pub with her face on it.” Maladicta grinned. “It’s hard to believe,” she agreed. Polly shifted her gaze and her eyes regained their faraway look. “D’you ever wonder what the others are doing now? I mean, I know Shufti’s at The Duchess … my Duchess, I mean, and Wazzer’s at Froc’s quarters, isn’t she? But the others …” “Well,” said Mal slowly. “I’m pretty sure I know what Tonker and Lofty are up to. Did you hear about the bank robbery?” She looked carefully at Polly, who grinned. “Yes... didn’t it happen on the same day the Grey House burnt down?” Mal laughed softly. “Well, then”, she said. “We know about those two. But Igorina and Jade? They’ve disappeared.” “Perhaps,” said the sergeant. “But I remember thinking you’d disappeared before I saw you on the ferry – people do reappear. Why did you come back, by the way?” She turned to look at Maladicta carefully, who just as carefully didn’t return the gaze. “Same as you, I expect,” she said. “I missed the Army life.” Polly nodded, turning to fold the map up again. “Besides …” the vampire continued. Polly stopped folding. “I missed you.” The sergeant’s heart beat faster. “You must have known I cared about you.” “How, exactly?” Polly asked warily. Mal gave her a look, such a look, which sent her heart into overdrive. She carried on folding the map, so the corporal couldn’t see her shaking hands. As she finished, Mal spoke again. “As a sister, of course. Or brother, if you want. We just seemed to click, you and I. The rest were great, but you had en edge to you that I found I really missed when I got home.” Polly found herself almost blushing. “Thanks,” she mumbled. Just then she heard someone approach. “Er, sarge?” It was Private Wells. “Yes, Wells?” “I’ve got two... men here, who want to sign up, sir.” “Thank you, Wells, you may leave.” The ‘men’ were a pair of twins, almost identical, possibly both male, but probably otherwise. “Alright,” she said. “Corporal, you may take over.” Mal took the twins over to a ‘quieter’ corner of the pub; in other words, one where grown men weren’t sprawled over the tables singing ‘Awake, ye sons of the motherland!’ Polly watched them talking from her seat, quickly dropping her eyes to stare at her weak beer whenever she felt the vampire’s gaze on her. Sipping the disgusting liquid slowly, she tried to remember her feelings when she’d set out to rejoin the Army. Of course she’d felt sad, at leaving her father, and Paul and Shufti. She’d also felt excited – probably the thrill of several weeks, possibly months, with no privy to wash out. But there had been something else as well – a feeling of contentment, as if the Army was where she belonged. She felt like Jackrum – she’d never intended to stay signed-up for long, but once you’d taken the shilling, nothing was quite the same again. Polly had found she missed marching, missed the uniform, hell, even missed scubbo... and most of all, she supposed, she missed the company. Regulars at the Duchess were hardly candidates for outstanding intelligence, even though Gummy Abbens had taught her most of what she needed to known as a soldier, and family, though she loved them, weren’t the same. What she’d loved was their little group of recruits. Her, Shufti, Tonker, Lofty, Igorina, Jade, Wazzer and Mal. Polly knew she would never get that particular group of people together again, but it was enough just to have Maladicta for conversation. And she had clearly felt the same about Polly. That had flattered her, and if she was completely honest with herself, she probably would have chosen Mal out of their little group to spend the next few months with. The vampire was a mystery. She had, as she’d said about Polly, an edge, and the two had a certain chemistry that was hard to explain. Just as the sergeant was considering what might have happened between them if Mal had actually been a boy, she came over from the other side of the pub. “More little lads?” Polly stressed this last word. “Well, one of them is. Mark and Rebecca Oldman. I suggested she were Private Oldman, and he Private Mark, as she wants to join as a girl, and she’ll get more respect that way.” Polly nodded in agreement. “Where are they now?” she asked. “I sent them straight back to the barracks for rest. The free pint of horse piss the landlord gave them has gone straight to most of their heads.” Polly sipped her own horse piss in thought. “So that’s six little lads now. Four girls, two lads. I hope Slumm isn’t too tough on them, you know.” Mal laughed and looked at her thoughtfully. “You’re very motherly, you know. More than I would have imagined,” she added, as the Sergeant fixed her with a disbelieving look. “It’s good,” she went on, sipping her ever-present mug of coffee, “I admire that in a woman.” Her dark eyes
reflected the hue of the drink, and for the first time, Polly saw how
extraordinarily beautiful she was. She’d been handsome as a boy of
course, especially to Polly, but she’d never seemed very attractive
female. Now, gazing into those eyes, the girl could see that the ancient
legends concerning vampires seducing helpless humans were quite likely
to be true. Keeping that in mind, she carefully took another mouthful
of beer, never once allowing her eyes to leave the infinite pools of
Maladicta’s. *** Polly awoke with a start the next morning; the hard mattress poking into her side uncomfortably. With an effort, she rolled over... and nearly fell out of bed. Lying just a few feet away, on the same hard mattress, was Maladicta. She snuffled slightly in her sleep, still managing to look well-groomed when unconscious. Polly glanced around the room uncomfortably, then slowly began to extract herself from the tangle of bedclothes. She tiptoed across the room to her belongings, and was relieved to find she seemed to have only removed her jacket and boots the night before. Shivering in the early light, she was struggling to pull on the latter, when she heard a voice behind her. “Poll?” “Mal,” she said, turning round so swiftly she almost fell over. For a few seconds, neither of them moved, locked in each other’s eyes. Then Mal sat up fully, her loose dark hair falling to cover her eyes. “You alright, sarge?” Polly nodded slowly. “I was just wondering …” Unable to finish, her eyes wandered to the messy bed. Mal followed her gaze and laughed. “No, we didn’t. The inn ran out of space so I said we’d share.” Polly drew a relieved breath and smiled, before turning back to finish pulling her boots on. “You were too tired to notice much.” Polly laughed. When she straightened up, she realised the vampire hadn’t moved. Reaching for her jacket, she saw the expression on Mal’s face. It was the same look she’d given her the previous night. “Would it have
been bad if we had?” she asked. *** Polly had had
to leave quickly after that conversation, ostensibly to get the little
lads up, although she actually went to pour herself a strong coffee.
She couldn’t trust herself to answer any question with those dark
eyes watching her, let alone that question. *** All that long day and the next, as they marched towards Slumm and the Zlobenian front, Polly found herself avoiding talking to Mal. It wasn’t that she was scared or uncomfortable, in fact sometimes she found herself far too comfortable with the idea. She was just confused and, in the age-old mantra of confused teenage girls, needed ‘some time by herself’. Of course, when marching she got plenty of that, especially as Maladicta seemed conveniently to be spending most of her time leading and teaching the lads. It was when they stopped that it became awkward. When boots were eased off, fires lit and scubbo prepared. The little lads talked amongst themselves – Lithgow and Cartell sitting close together, occasionally sharing a private moment when they thought Sarge and the Corporal weren’t looking. Polly allowed this because it made them happy and, well; everyone needed something that made them happy in times like these. The Oldman twins would also be sitting together, possibly in deep conversation, or sharing a joke with Sapping and Wells, who reminded Polly more and more of Shufti every day. They’d be sitting round the campfire, enjoying good or bad food, depending on who was cooking, just as Polly herself had all those months ago when she’d first joined up. It was different seeing it from the other side, from where Jackrum would have seen it. Almost comical, to see how the recruits interacted and got to know one another. But there was only so long you could watch a group of young soldiers. Sooner or later she had to talk to the silent figure at her side. “How far to Slumm?” she ventured. Mal turned to her and smiled slightly. “About six miles. We’ll make the battlefield tomorrow noon.” To be fair, the vampire had been bearing the silence of Polly’s inner confusion very well. She hadn’t once demanded that the girl stop avoiding her or uttered the much-dreaded phrase, ‘we need to talk’. Perhaps she had experienced this before, and so knew what to expect, Polly thought, as she studied the patient features with the beginnings of a smile. After all, there was no telling how old Mal was – she’d probably lived the equivalent of at least two human lifetimes already, and was much more used to these things than Polly. “Noon,” she repeated thoughtfully. “Time enough to get ourselves involved in the edge of the fray. Have you heard how the war’s going?” That was once thing the Monstrous Regiment had achieved: news of the war now filtered down from Froc and her colleagues to the ordinary soldiers. The vampire frowned slightly. “The landlord of The Duchess said he heard some other soldiers discussing it. The battle at Slumm’s not going either way, yet, so there’s still hope. Rumours are that the Prince is being more careful this time – he’s on the lookout for small groups of untrained girls who might beat the shit out of him.” She managed a weak smile. Polly sighed, and smiled back, a rueful smile. “There’s nothing for it. We’ll just have to proceed to Slumm and protect our lads as best we can.” They both returned their gazes to the gaggle of teenagers surrounding the fire. They were laughing and joking and, unwittingly, enjoying their last night on earth without the horrors of war forever in the back of their minds. By tomorrow, they would have lost at least their innocence, and possibly also their lives. Involuntarily, Polly’s hand found Mal’s, holding on with an energy she had previously only seen between Lofty and Tonker, the two Inseparables. She felt the vampire twitch slightly, then relax into the situation and accept the gesture as a sign of Polly’s increased worry about taking he little lads into battle. It was only after
the lads had retired to their ‘beds’ that Polly let go of her Corporal’s
hand, and then only to lay her head on the vampire’s lap and fall
into a restless sleep. Mal stayed awake most of the night, stroking
blonde curls and smiling secretly to herself. *** The watery sun rose free of cloud the next day, rousing the sleeping forms one by one. Polly woke to find Maladicta breathing softly next to her, her dark hair obscuring her face as it had done that night in the inn. During the night they had inevitably moved as Mal fell asleep and Polly found herself softly encircled by the vampire’s arms. Much though she wanted to remain there, it occurred to the sergeant that the lads might find it slightly strange, especially if, as she suspected, they knew Mal was female. So she carefully extracted herself from the embrace, watching as he Corporal readjusted to the change in her sleep. When she was asleep, that slightly-annoying knowing look disappeared from her features and she looked completely at peace. As Polly stood contemplating her own feelings towards her companion, she heard someone cough behind her. Hurriedly she turned round and tried to look professional. It was Private Oldman, trying to look as if she hadn’t just caught her Sergeant gazing at an unconscious Corporal. “Er, grub’s up?” she said, gesturing behind her to where, indeed, her twin, Private Mark, was ladling out something hot. “Great,” said Polly. “Well done, Private. I’ll come fetch some for myself and the, er, corporal,” here she glanced at Mal again, “in a minute.” Oldman nodded and returned to her fellow recruits. When Polly was able to bring herself to disturb that perfect countenance, she woke Mal. They supped the hot broth Private Mark had prepared together, before setting off to Slumm with grim determination. The little lads
followed, blissfully unaware of exactly what they were headed for. *** It was clear from their first glimpse of Slumm that the area was a war zone. Dilapidated buildings stood abandoned or, worse, housing uncountable numbers of injured soldiers. Polly’s path through the deserted streets carefully avoided taking her little lads past any of these establishments. She wanted to preserve their innocence for as long as possible. They were, however, getting understandably nervous about fighting in a real battle. There was nothing Polly could do but lead them and pray they remembered her lessons in swordsmanship in the heat of battle. At around noon, as Mal had predicted, they reached a low rise and looked over the battlefield of Slumm. It resembled very much the battlefield at Kneck, a jumbled makeshift city on the outskirts of a raging battle. The only difference here was the absence of the imposing keep. The recruits stood
gazing at the sight in various states of trepidation. Maladicta seemed
to be thinking the same thoughts as Polly, a weary look on her features.
Oh well, the sergeant thought to herself, at least we won’t have to
dress up as girls this time. Probably. *** As they reached the encampment, Polly found a Sergeant-Major and reported the arrival of the Ins-and-Outs. He, or possibly, she peered at Polly for a wile, before speaking. “Are you that one... the …?” “The what?” Polly asked, although she knew what he meant. “You know, the … er... girl?” He looked almost embarrassed. “A girl?” Polly almost exploded and the Sergeant-major quivered despite his rank. “Yes, I am that one,” she answered more calmly. The man’s nervousness changed instantly into joy. “Great!” he said, wringing her hand enthusiastically. “Wonderful to have you here. Loved what you did to the Prince, by the way. Don’t suppose you could... do it again, perhaps?” “No,” said Polly firmly as the man deflated slightly. “I’m here to take my troops into battle, that’s all.” “Oh, yes, right then,” the Sergeant-major agreed. “The guard down there should give you a tent to put your packs in. Lieutenant Featherstonehaugh says you’re to go straight in. He’s, er... otherwise engaged. Good luck!” Polly nodded and moved off, raising her eyebrows at Mal. The vampire returned the gesture before murmuring in her ear, “So you’re that girl, are you?” Polly giggled despite the situation. The guard did
in fact give them a tent, and was then kind enough to direct them towards
the battle, in case they had managed to miss the sound of hundreds of
men trying desperately to stay alive. *** As they neared the actual fighting, which was happening in a giant clearing in between the two sides’ camps, Polly could see the troops visibly gathering their courage about them. At the very edge of the Borogravian tent city, Mal stopped the soldiers for a few words of advice, seeing as they were distinctly lacking in the Rupert department. Polly let her – she wasn’t sure the lump in her throat would allow her to give her little lads the much-needed words of comfort. The vampire, however, was cool and collected as ever. “Troops! This is your first battle. You may be nervous about killing, even if it is the enemy. Just remember, if you don’t kill him, he’ll kill you. Bear that in mind when your soldier’s nerve falters. Also,” here she paused, looking each of them in the eyes in turn, “remember a battle cannot last forever. Sooner or later, your superiors will call you back from the front, and you just need to survive til’ then. That’s about all I can say. Anything to add, Sergeant Perks?” Polly shook her head, mute. “Alright, then,” Mal continued. “We’ll proceed to the front, and attack, on signal.” In one thin but determined red line they marched forward to the battle, stepping round the fresh corpses of other little lads. Polly noticed Cartell and Lithgow were holding hands tightly, and suddenly found her own hands shaking uncontrollably. Without even looking up, Mal reached over, took Polly’s hand in her own and squeezed slightly. Involuntarily, Polly returned the action, noticing the unusual clamminess of the vampire’s skin. The sights and sounds of battle loomed ever closer; red and blue blurs of uniformed soldiers ahead. The troops marched almost in a daze, to block out the more horrific parts. There was a pause of about half a second, when everyone glanced at everyone else and had the chance to discover what naked terror looked like. Then Polly shouted “Charge!” and abandoned Mal’s hand in favour of a sharper, metallic weapon. The next of her life was a complete blur. It could have been seconds, minutes or hours which passed before the welcome shout of “Ins-and-Outs pull back!” was heard. All she knew was that she helped at least fifteen souls to their rightful place in the Afterlife. The noise of battle was all around her – shouts, the sound of metal on metal, or occasionally meat, the painful last gasps. As half a regiment of Zlobenians poured their life’s blood onto her, she realised why the Borogravian Army had elected for red uniforms. And then it was all over. She was stumbling back towards the lights, sheathing her sword as she went. As she pushed her not-quite-the-right-length hair from her eyes, she saw dusk was falling. As she stopped on the edge of the makeshift city, she saw Maladicta was beside her, probably having fought at her side the whole time. Polly grinned, then turned back to face the battle to watch for her little lads. The fighting had slowed now, and would stop before nightfall. As her eyes adjusted to the gathering gloom, Polly spotted Privates Sapping and Wells returning, leaning on each other’s shoulders, closely followed by the twins. As they approached she see Rebecca was sporting a large cut on her arm as well as a weak smile. Polly went forward to inspect it – it wasn’t deep, and would most probably heal quickly. “Did any of you spot Lithgow or Cartell in there?” They all shook their heads and she frowned, biting her lip. Just as she was wondering what to do next, she saw a figure emerging from the fray. It was clearly Lithgow, but she was burdened by a heavy object over her shoulders. “No!” gasped a voice which Polly slowly recognised as her own. She began running towards the blurred outline, following on Mal’s heels. When they reached the girl, she stooped to allow Maladicta to take the unconscious body of Cartell from her back. “I found him … amongst the dead …” she trailed off, weak with exhaustion. Polly automatically offered her shoulder to the girl, then looked at her Corporal, hunched below the weight of the boy. “We need to get him to the hospital,” she said, somewhat unnecessarily. Mal nodded once then set off in that direction. Polly carried
on to her little lads. They needed some hot broth and a good night’s
sleep. *** They were handed hot broth, or something which at least reminded Polly of broth, by the guard on duty and then made their weary way to the tent. “Alright, lads,” she said. “We’ll enjoy this now, ‘cause it’s not scubbo, and then get a good night’s rest. We might be needed again in the morning.” She felt, rather than heard, the groan from the troops, but ignored it. After all, it wasn’t as if she herself wanted to go back onto that field. Quietly she tended the cut on Rebecca’s arm with a few well-used tricks learnt form Igorina. Then she moved swiftly from physical to mental pain, comforting Lithgow. “He’ll survive, I know he will,” she said, her arm around the young soldier’s shoulders. “He’s in very capable hands – the best surgeons of all are in the Duchess’ service.” She paused for a moment, then added, “They’ve probably got an Igor.” This seemed to cheer the girl, so Polly continued. “Besides, he’ll fight. He’s got a lot to fight for.” She looked knowingly at Lithgow, who blushed, smiled gratefully and wiped her eyes. Polly stood up.
“Anyway, I’d best take Corporal Maladicta some broth. I won’t
be long.” At Lithgow’s look, she added, “and I’ll bring news
of Cartell.” *** Sergeant Perks made her way slowly across the Army encampment, savouring the flavours of the night. There was the inevitable smell of hastily-prepared Army food, whether broth or scubbo she couldn’t tell, the burning aroma of thousands of campfires and the more unsavoury odours associated with a gathering of many people. She passed many different tents and reflected again how much like a city a battle encampment was – they had potters, money-lenders and even a scruffy-looking antiques shop in amongst the requisite pie-, ale- and whore-houses. Concerning the latter, Polly noticed an establishment the exact equivalent of “The SoLid DoVes” on Kneck battlefield, charmingly entitled “The HoSe of Ill RePutE”. Chuckling to herself, Polly passed on to the ‘hospital’. It consisted of a larger tent than usual, split into several rooms. She wound her way expertly through the mass of makeshift beds until she found Mal in a small empty room, her head in her hands, and handed her the steaming broth. “Sorry it’s not coffee,” she said meekly, noticing for the first time how tired the vampire looked. Battle had really taken it out of her. As she sipped the broth, the paleness gradually returned to her cheeks and she managed a weak smile. “So, how’s he doing?” Polly ventured. “He’ll be fine. They’ve got an Igor, you know…” here Polly smiled, “… who said the cut’s not that deep, and he’s just suffering from concussion. As her sergeant looked confused, Mal explained. “Unconsciousness, the body’s way of reacting to a blow to the head.” “Oh, right.” Polly nodded. “Lithgow’s worried, you know.” Here Maladicta actually laughed, a warm, deep sound in that lifeless place. “Yes, she would be. Those two... they’ve really got something.” Here she gave Polly a look which made her heart beat that much faster, then, to her utmost surprise, reached over and took both of Polly’s hands in hers. “Poll?” she began. The girl licked her lips nervously but didn’t dare say anything. Instead she let the moment carry on until Mal spoke again. “There’s something I have to tell you.” Her eyes flicked around the empty room, as if for inspiration. Eventually, they met Polly’s again and melted her. It’s a good job I’m sitting down, she thought to herself. Mal continued. “I’m not sure how to say this …so perhaps this will have to do.” Slowly, she leaned over and kissed Polly softly. It was a mere hint of things to come, and Mal’s hand stroked her cheek briefly. Then it was over. Polly found herself in shock. It was at the same time better than she could have ever imagined, and yet also not enough. Her hand involuntarily reached up to touch the place where Mal’s hand had rested. As she did so, her skin exploded into flame and suddenly she was looking into the vampire’s unsure face with hunger in her eyes. Quickly, before she could think it through, Polly pulled her Corporal’s face towards her and placed her lips on Mal’s. She felt the vampire react in surprise then return the gesture passionately. For what seemed like hours, they were locked together, and all Polly could think of was Maladicta – her soft dark air, her deep coffee-coloured eyes and her indescribable being. She felt a part of her, melting into her soft white skin and slender body, the moonlight streaming in through the ragged ceiling. Then they were tugging at each other’s uniforms, buttons forgotten in their haste. Mal’s hands were inside her shirt, round her waist, pulling her closer to her, between her legs. Her breath was warm on Polly’s face. Polly responded by finding the vampire’s belt. It was soon undone and Mal’s breath caught in her throat as Polly’s hands found their way inside her regulation Army breeches. Then she stopped. What was she thinking of? This was a battlefield, and she had little lads to care for... Mal was her Corporal, a colleague in duty to the Duchess. Hastily, she pulled herself to a sitting position. Maladicta lay half across her, still entangled. “No, please,” she murmured in her ear. “I can’t,” Polly whispered, then tried to stand up. “Please... finish,” Mal said, her eyes begging in the moonlight. Trying to ignore that, Polly stood up fully then did up her shirt and replaced her jacket. “I must check on my little lads,” she said apologetically. The vampire stood up too, looked at her for a long while, then spoke. “Alright, I’ll stay here for Cartell and bring him back.” “OK. Don’t be too long”. Before she regretted it, Polly leaned over and kissed Mal on the cheek. Then she left, striding through the tent flap into the misty night. Behind her, Mal
sat down abruptly on the bench. “Gods,” she said. *** When she was out of sight of the hospital, Polly paused, leaning against a nearby wagon for support. Desperately, she tried to sort out her thoughts. They raced across her mind like clouds, each less clear than the last. That had been good, back in the tent, that much she knew. It was what she had wanted with Maladict, and recently it was what she’d wanted more and more with Maladicta. However, now just wasn’t the right time, when her little lads needed her. Besides, Polly started as a new thought occurred to her: she was sure that was an Abomination unto Nuggan. Then she caught herself – there was no more Nuggan. He had been scrapped, along with his Abominations, in favour of a new religion worshipping the dead Duchess, Annagovism. But old habits die hard, as they say. As Polly started to move off, her eye was caught by the name scrawled on the tent flap closest to her. “The HoSe of Ill RePutE”. “It’ll help if you visits one of them naughty places once in a while.” Jackrum’s words
of wisdom. Besides, she needed somewhere to think. She stepped inside. *** As soon as the tent flap fell into place behind her, Polly regretted her actions. She was surrounded by several predatory-looking women, each more scantily clad than the last, and suddenly Oliver took over. She blushed violently and backed away, “Er, I’ll just …” “Oh, no need, dear.” The largest of the women stepped forward, taking hold of her arm hungrily. “Or should I say... sergeant.” She cackled and attempted what Polly assumed was a wink, although it actually looked like her eye was trying to migrate from her face. Polly felt an instant rush of sympathy for the eye, but was distracted as it moved to linger over her sock region. “You’re a young ‘un for that rank, very impressive.” Quickly, before the woman noticed anything amiss, Polly spoke. “Er... well, yes, I’m very determined, I suppose,” she trailed off. The woman cackled again, “Sounds good, eh, girls?” The assortment of... ladies nodded without enthusiasm. Polly was beginning to formulate an escape plan, when the woman, who was still clutching her arm, spoke again. “Well, seeing as you’re such an important person, you’ll get nothing but the best. Sophie!” A waif of a girl who Polly hadn’t noticed before stepped out of the shadows. She was pretty, if not in a conventional way, and in her eyes Polly saw some of the spark of Mal’s, inevitably somewhat dulled by the nature of her profession. “To your liking, sir?” The large woman asked. “Yes, thank you,” Polly replied, smiling at Sophie. She didn’t respond, but then Polly hadn’t expected her to. The woman positively beamed at what was obviously a wonderful match. “There you are, then”, she said as Polly stuffed some coins into her grubby hand. “Enjoy yourselves.” Polly followed the girl into another tent, darker and more secluded than the first. She felt self-conscious and awkward, but was relieved to see Sophie merely looking bored. “Whaddya want then, mister?” she said, once the ‘door’ was shut. “The usual, or anythin’ fancy?” As she spoke, she started taking off her ragged dress. Polly hurried to look away. “Erm, actually, I am here for something rather special. Please... keep your clothes on.” “Well, that is special,” Sophie said. Polly waited ‘til she was sure there was no danger of her seeing anything, then turned back, blushing even more than Ozzer would have done. The girl was looking at her properly for the first time, her sharp eyes taking in every detail. “What kind of services do you require then, Sergeant …?” “Perks. Well, you look tired. Why not catch half-an-hour’s sleep? I’m not here for... any of that, so, you know, just relax.” She motioned to the grimy bed in the centre of the room, but Sophie stayed standing, looking at her curiously. “No,” she said. “There’s more to you than that, Sergeant Perks. Somethin’s botherin’ you, and you came ‘ere for counsel. Well, better ‘ere than anywhere else! I’ve ‘ad more than my fair share of problems, an’ I’m willing to ‘elp you with yours. ‘Specially as you’ve paid good money for my services.” They stood there, either side of the dilapidated bed, from different worlds. Polly doubted Sophie had ever had exactly the same problem she was going through, but she clearly had a lot of life experience. Plus, she knew what it felt like to be an Abomination. It couldn’t hurt to discuss it with someone else... at least not someone with Sophie’s eyes. Those same eyes watched closely as Polly sat down wearily on the bed, removing her shako. “I don’t have long, though... little lads to care for, you see.” Sophie nodded and sat on the other side of the bed, pulling her thin dress around her knees. “It won’t take long, I’m sure. Guy like you, can’t ‘ave too many problems.” She smiled and suddenly Polly felt like pouring out her heart, all the felling and thoughts and confusion that had been haunting her these past few months. “Well, there’s
this girl …” *** Sophie sat quietly throughout her story, nodding in all the right places. Polly told her everything, except her own true gender. She felt that would only cloud the already murky waters. When she finished, giving a bare description of the events in the hospital tents, Sophie whistled out through her teeth, reminding Polly forcibly of Mal. “Well, that certainly is a problem and a half. But you’re not the first, you know, to fall in love with a fellow soldier,” she said gravely. “Does she feel as strongly as you do?” “Yes,” said Polly vehemently. Sophie paused, watching her, then, “what makes you so sure?” Polly spoke softly but surely, with only a hint of a blush. “Well, all the things she said, for a start, about missing me, caring for me, and the morning we woke up together. I’ll never forget that. Oh, and then, the... happenings in the hospital.” Sophie nodded, hiding a giggle. “Well, from a girl’s point of view, it does sound as if she has rather a thing for you.” Polly smiled involuntarily. Sophie continued, “In that case, I would say you have no problem. You like her, she clearly like you. A lot simpler than most people’s lives, I can assure you.” Polly felt a sudden rush of happiness as those Mal-like eyes watched her seriously. Here was a genuine woman (one who hadn’t spent the last year of her life pretending to be a soldier boy) telling her that what she’d hoped for every night for the last few months was actually true. Maladicta really did care for her. Polly wasn’t sure how the thought of one person could her so happy, or whether it was entirely healthy, but she did know that she had to back to her Corporal right now. Sophie had given her satisfaction, which of course was her job, but Polly had to get back to Mal. Surely she would have returned to the Ins-and-Outs tent by now? “I’m terribly sorry,” she started, bringing her mind back to the tent, but Sophie shook her head, smiling. “Don’ worry about it. You’ve clearly got some talkin’ to do with this girl of yours. I’m glad you came to me, though. Anytime you need relationship advice, you know where to find me.” She stood up as Polly put her shako back on. “Here,” the sergeant said, reaching into her pocket. However, Sophie would not hear of it – “you’ve already paid, and besides, it’s not often I gets a chat with as nice a lad as yourself. That’s payment in itself.” Polly wasn’t sure of the appropriate way to bid farewell and so settled for a conventional handshake. The girl’s hand was warm despite the draught in the small room, and she laughed as the sergeant left. “You go get her!” Polly grinned
in the dark and set off in the direction of her Corporal. *** With the first breath of cold night air on her face, Polly felt the difference in the camp. It was something in the atmosphere, as if the air was suddenly charged with particles of joy. I’m really seeing the world through rose-tinted spectacles, she thought. She slowed to a leisurely stroll as she neared the little lads’ tent, attempting, at least, to look calm. When she entered, she did a quick head count. Six. That must mean... oh yes, there was Cartell. Sitting wrapped in a cloak with a bandage round his head, being waited on hand-and-foot by Lithgow. He gave Polly a small smile as she entered. The others were crouching around the campfire, sipping a second or possibly third round of broth. The Oldman twins stood up excitedly as she approached, but it was Sapping who spoke first. “Have you heard?” she asked, barely able to contain herself. Polly shook her head, confused, so the girl quickly explained. “We’ve won!” The sergeant’s expression must have remained vacant. “The war, sarge! Zlobenia just issued a surrender, signed by Prince Heinrich himself.” Polly opened her mouth, then closed it again. That explained the happy atmosphere she’d experienced. “That’s great, really it is. Did they say why?” Sapping smiled coyly and Wells laughed form behind the pot of broth she was testing. Rebecca spoke this time. “Apparently, sarge, the Prince heard that the soldier girl he... met last war was back in the Army. You scared him off!” Polly laughed then thought for a moment. “It must have been that Sergeant-Major we met... rumours fly fast on a battlefield. Well, another war won for Borogravia. S’pose we can all go home now.” The troops looked uncomfortable, exactly how Polly herself had felt after the first war. “At least until they invade again,” she added, and the lads laughed, looking more at ease. It was then that Maladicta appeared, emerging from the shadows as only a vampire could. She looked better than Polly had remembered, especially with a smile playing on her lips. “Where have you been then?” she asked, close enough that Polly was aware of every movement in her body, but not close enough to be satisfying. “I had some things to sort out,” she replied, gazing into Mal’s dark eyes. The vampire glanced at the lads, before taking her sergeant’s arm and leading her out of the communal tent. “What are we supposed to do now the war’s over?” she asked, her fingers winding their way into Polly’s. “Go home, I think,” the girl said. Mal sighed. “Yeah … after all, as Jackrum always said, kissin’ don’t last.” Polly paused, turning to look Mal full in the face. “Perhaps it depends who you kiss.” She leaned towards her Corporal, and for a long moment, they were one. Then Maladicta broke away softly. “What was it you had to sort out, then?” “Just things,” Polly smiled. “Things about us.” Mal ran her hand
through the sergeant’s
not-long-enough-to-be-attractiv Polly smiled again. “That love …” here she took Mal’s hands in her own, “… is a great big fish.” That night, the
little lads saw no more of either Sarge or the Corporal but, assuming
they had retired to their private tent, wisely left them to it. |