The Militiaman of Garthset: Legends of Tirmar

By Mark Dame

Randell has wanted to join the militia since an orc raiding party took his family from him when he was just a child.

Now he finally has his chance to get the retribution he's been looking for.

But when his platoon responds to an orc attack on a neighboring town, he quickly discovers that real battles aren't like the old songs and stories.

Vastly outnumbered, Randell's thirst for vengeance may cost him more than he knows.

The Militiaman of Garthset is a novella in the Legends of Tirmar series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: FutureLine Press
• Release date: Jan 31, 2018
• ISBN: 9781946298300

Mark Dame

Mark grew up in Cincinnati, Ohio, where he still lives with his wife and two sons. In addition to writing fiction, Mark is a professional software developer and freelance commercial writer. He also works part-time teaching people to fly airplanes. Mark writes horror, science fiction, and fantasy novels and short stories. When not behind a desk, Mark enjoys cave diving, running, biking, and camping. To stay up to date on Mark's news and book releases, visit his website at https://www.markdame.com/.

Book preview

Chapter 1

It is my honor, as the Thane of Garthset, to present our newest defender, and confer upon him the rank of Militiaman Second Class, Randell, son of Ehrhard ."

The small crowd applauded as Captain Gudbrant pinned the Second Class Militiaman emblem to Randell’s chest. Randell saluted the captain, then turned and saluted the Thane.

The Thane grasped Randell’s forearm. Congratulations, Randell, the Thane said. Then, leaning toward him, so the crowd couldn’t hear, added, Well done. Don’t let Gudbrant fool you. He’s proud of you too.

Thank you, My Lord, Randell replied. He felt himself blushing.

The Thane’s daughter, Brenna, stood behind the Thane, applauding with the rest of the spectators. She scowled at Randell and, when she saw him looking at her, stuck out her tongue at him. Randell looked back to the crowd, trying to stifle a giggle.

His foster parents were in the front row. Kahill and Daegrun had taken him in after his own parents were killed by an orc raiding party when he had been just six years old. Kahill grinned as he looked up at his son. Daegrun frowned and wiped tears from her eyes. She’d never understood his desire to join the militia. With no children of their own, they had seen him as a blessing from the gods, and Daegrun didn’t want to lose him in some meaningless battle with the orcs.

Garthset was the largest town in Asgerdale, a vast valley in the Estlaeg Mountains. Members of the Ilfin Clan had settled in Asgerdale centuries earlier because of its fertile soil and abundance of timber. Ten leagues across and thirty long, the vale was home to many smaller villages and individual homesteads. In the south, some of the large rolling fields had been converted to farmland, while in the north, a large forest, mostly pine, provided lumber for both building and trade.

The Ilfins had settled much of Northeastern Tirmar, though they were only one of three human clans. The Mundars were mighty warriors who lived thousands of leagues south and west of Asgerdale. The Ranjers were rumored to be practicers of magic, but according to the stories, they had scattered across Tirmar long ago and no longer had a land of their own.

There was a legend of a fourth clan, the Andors, though they had disappeared from Tirmar a thousand years ago. If they had ever existed at all. Randell had his doubts.

He had never met anyone from another clan. At least, not a human clan. He had met a dwarf once in the city of Hemdown, a few days’ ride west of Garthset and beyond the mountains. But all the humans he had ever known were Ilfin. And they all believed that fighting and war should be avoided at all costs. In the Ilfin Clan, that belief was ingrained in them from the time they were old enough to understand.

That the militia existed at all was a regrettable necessity brought on by the coming of Lord Jarot and his orcs. The orcs that Randell hoped to face one day, in spite of his foster parents’ wishes.

Gudbrant turned to Randell as the applause died down.

Militiaman Second Class Randell, he said in his captain’s voice. Report for duty!

Randell snapped a smart salute, then executed a textbook about-face and marched off the dais. Eagle Squad, officially First Squad, Second Platoon, waited for him at the bottom of the steps. After three months training every day with them, they were like his brothers. Now that he was a full militiaman, he would get to go on patrols with them, maybe even get to take on some orcs.

Just because you passed training doesn’t mean you get any special privileges, Sergeant Torbin said. You’re still the recruit until somebody new takes your place.

Yes, Sergeant, Randell said, trying to hide his grin. Gudbrant had told him the harassment wouldn’t end with training. His relationship with Gudbrant hadn’t helped him fit in with his squad-mates, but they were at least beginning to respect him. Probably because Gudbrant had mostly stayed away during his training.

The other members of the squad clapped him on the back.

Good job, recruit.

I guess you can fight after all.

They all gathered around him, congratulating him.

Okay, that’s enough, the sergeant said. There’ll be plenty of time to initiate him later. Turning to Randell, he said, Take the night off and report for duty at sunrise.

Yes, Sergeant!

Randell raced over to where his parents waited for him.

I’m so proud of you, Kahill said, grasping Randell’s forearm.

Daegrun hugged her son, tears streaming down her cheeks.

I can’t believe you’re all grown up, she said. You promise me you’ll be careful, Randell. Promise me!

I will, Mom, he said, pulling away and wiping his mother’s tears from his face.

Let’s go celebrate, Kahill said. The first round is on me.

Care if I join you? Gudbrant said, walking up to them.

Sure! Randell said, beaming. I mean, yes, sir! Or rather, no, sir! he stammered.

Gudbrant and Kahill laughed.

Relax, Randell, Gudbrant said. You’re off duty until tomorrow. You can skip the formalities.

Thanks. Randell felt himself blush again.

And the first round’s on me, Gudbrant said to Kahill.

Who am I to argue with the Captain of the Garthset Militia? Kahill replied.

Don’t you two go getting him drunk, Daegrun said. I want to spend some time with my boy too.

We’ll be home in time for dinner, Kahill promised.

Love you, Mom. Randell kissed his mother.

As the trio left the town square, the others in the crowd shook Randell’s hand, or clapped him on the back, or grabbed him in bear hugs. There were lots of shouts of congratulations and good-lucks and be-carefuls. Randell smiled and thanked everyone. Most were family friends, although a few were younger boys and girls who looked at him in wide-eyed wonder.

Torbin says you’ve done well, Gudbrant said as they made their way to The Swan’s Nest, one of the smaller taverns in Garthset.

That’s not what he told me, Randell said. He told me I was adequate.

That’s because he wants to motivate you to try harder. You’ll never be your best if you think you’ve already exceeded expectations.

It’s like I’ve always taught you, Kahill said. A man never knows his limits until he pushes them.

That’s good advice, Gudbrant said.

I know, Randell said. I just wish he’d tell me I did something right every now and then.

Gudbrant laughed. Torbin is tough. That’s why I put you in his squad. I knew he wouldn’t let you just get by like some of the other squad leaders might.

The captain put his arm around Randell’s shoulders.

And I know you, Randell, he said. If he had let you just get by, you wouldn’t have pushed so hard.

So you told him to be mean to me? Randell stopped and glared at Gudbrant.

Well, maybe a little. Gudbrant grinned. But look at what you’ve accomplished. You’ve learned more about fighting and discipline in three months than most will ever know. You’re going to be a fine militiaman. Maybe even have my job one day.

Don’t let his mother hear you say that, Kahill said. She still thinks he’ll get bored with the militia in a year or two and come back to work in the shop.

Work in the shop, find a wife, and give you grandchildren? Gudbrant said.

The gods willing, Kahill said.

That’s a long way away, Randell said. I don’t even have a girlfriend.

What about Brenna? Kahill said.

Brenna? I don’t know. I like her, but she’s like my sister. That would be weird.

Gudbrant had introduced him to Brenna shortly after bringing him to Garthset when he was six. She had only been four years old at the time, and sometimes Randell still saw her as that little girl in pigtails. She was his best friend, other than Gudbrant. He supposed she was pretty, and he loved her, but it was the same love he had for his parents and Gudbrant, not the love for a woman he would marry.

Is Brenna mad at you? Gudbrant was saying. She seemed pretty upset with you at the ceremony.

She’s just jealous, Randell replied. She wants to join the militia when she turns eighteen, but Meinrad—uh, The Thane won’t let her.

Somehow I don’t think he’ll be able to stop her, Gudbrant said. She has a mind of her own. From what I hear, she’s become a very skilled swordsman.

She’s all right, Randell said.

Just all right? I heard she bested you a few months ago.

She just got lucky, Randell said, not looking at the captain. I was tired.

Gudbrant and Kahill laughed.

Let’s just hope Torbin has taught you how to fight when you’re tired,