Tann stretched as hard as he could, trying to get the kink out of his back. With slow concentration he twisted his body. His sand coloured trousers and shirt tightened as he hoped to hear the beautiful pop of his joints tripping back into place. He wasn’t going to be comfortable until he could crack it.
Ogum leaned against the wall smiling, arms folded. “Do you want help? I’ll give you a good twist if you like.”
Tann ignored his fellow senior cadet, he almost had it, he could feel the knot in his spine giving way. A little bit more pressure and he’d be there.
Ogum stepped forward, unfolding his arms and cracking his knuckles. Tann broke his pose and held up a finger, “Don’t you dare! I almost had it then!”
A rap came at the rear gate and the two senior cadets turned, looking at each other in puzzlement. The tap again, this time more urgent. Sighing, Ogum crossed the backyard of the Bamboo School, while Tann went back to trying to pop his back.
As Ogum opened the gate he saw a small beggar in ragged clothes, muck smeared across his mouth. The beggar bowed, fear written on his face.
Ogum smiled and nodded back. “Hello. You alright old man? No need to look so worried, I’m sure we have a little something we can spare.”
The old man’s stance gave Ogum pause though, his smile fading, “Is everything alright?” he said. Tann looked over hearing the concern in Ogum’s voice.
“B… begging your forgiveness sirs.” The old man bowed again, eyes fixed on the ground. Ogum waited, Tann ambled over, his back forgotten.
They stood in silence for a moment. “B… bandits,” the old man mumbled.
Ogum and Tann looked at each other and Ogum leaned forward, peering up and down the back alley. Messy, but otherwise empty.
“Bandits?” he said.
“In The Slant.”
The senior cadets looked at each other in shock. The Slant was the area outside the city wall. It was full of makeshift hovels, patched together from whatever came to hand. Rudimentary shelters that rarely lasted even one storm season. Ogum gestured to Tann, “Get as many cadets as you can find.” As Tann darted back into the school Ogum called after him, “With weapons! Bring some weapons!”
He took hold of the old man’s shoulders and looked into his eyes. “How many? Who are they?”
The beggar looked confused and afraid, shocked by Ogum’s rough handling. “I… I… they have swords…”
Ogum pushed past the old man and waved for him to follow, “Tann knows where The Slant is, let’s go!” with a frightened yelp the old man followed. Ogum sprinted down the alley, glancing back he shouted, “come on!”
Paralysed for a moment the old man stuttered. “You haven’t got your sword,” but Ogum was away and the old man had no choice but to follow through the bustling streets.
It wasn’t long before Ogum reached the West Wall. While a good twenty feet high it had fallen into disrepair like much of the city. Full of holes and makeshift exits it was perfect for the inhabitants of The Slant, forbidden from living in the city, impossible to keep out. Ogum was through a crack in the wall and running down the grass bank on the other side as he heard the screams of dismay. This side of the wall he could smell rotting vegetables and filth. Scrambling down the slope a group of ragged women came towards him. They were calling for help and pointing behind them to The Slant.
As the old man appeared behind him one of the women shouted, “Peeper! You’ve only brought one man you fool!”
Ogum brushed past her. He saw two men, dressed in smart yellow and blue. Both were holding scimitars and pulling down the planks of wood that made up someone’s home.
“Ho!” Ogum shouted. Before they even looked up he was into them, knocking one to the floor, the other crashing back through the wall they’d been busy dismantling. Both men’s swords went flying and the women sent up an even higher scream.
“What are you doing?” Ogum yelled at one of the men struggling to get up. Without waiting for an answer he delivered a downward blow. Hard, accurate, straight into the man’s jaw sending him down, unconscious, into the dust.
Three more of the yellow and blue wearing soldiers appeared. Seeing Ogum they drew their scimitars, “What are you doing to these people?” Ogum shouted.
He launched himself at all three who were so shocked he had two of them on the floor before they realised they were under attack. The third jumped back, trying to stammer out an explanation which came out as more of a strangled cry for help.
More yellow and blues appeared, three, then five, then ten. At this point Ogum halted, concerned that they all appeared to be wearing the same thing. What kind of bandits were these? He pointed a raging finger at the men, “You’re not wanted here! Get out before I arrest you!”
The tumbledown street filled with soldiers. One spoke up, shaking off his bemusement, “We’re the Queen’s Guard, here on orders to clear the slums. Who in all the Gods are you?”
Before Ogum could think of how he wanted to answer, the old man pushed in front of him and said, “he’s the Bamboo School! Now you’re for it!” Ogum gave them a shy smile.
Behind them the guardsman Ogum had kicked into the shack pulled himself free of the ruin. “Attacking a member of the Queen’s Guard? That’s death! We’re here to uphold the law you brigand.”
“Brigand am I? You’re the one destroying people’s homes!”
At that moment a cry went up from the direction of the wall. Thirty or forty cadets in the sand coloured cloth of Bamboo School were pouring down the slope. They carried shields, staves and cleavers, one held a cooking pot, another a wooden fence post. Tann was at the front, empty handed. Ogum didn’t need to wait. With one swift kick he sent the guard straight back into the remains of the shack, in a hail of wood and curses.
The guardsmen gaped. Their captain, the man who’d spoken up, barked instructions to line up, and quick. The cadets howled with delight and were on the guards before they could get in order.
The line of Queen’s Guard shattered into pieces. The cadets hammered them back, squashing them down narrow alleys and streets. Shacks collapsed, walls were crushed by the force of the charge.
The women cheered and slapped the old man on the back, congratulating him on his quick thinking. Ogum watched the scene unfold. He bit his lip, wondering if his thinking might have been a little too quick.
He shrugged, there was nothing for it now. Leaping into the fray, he disarmed one guard and used the scimitar to drive back another two.
Tann and the captain had hold of each other, each grappling for purchase. The captain used his superior body weight to twist Tann, trying to get him onto the floor. A smile spread across the captain’s face as he managed to get a good hold and, clunk, snapped Tann’s back.
To the captain’s surprise Tann shouted “Yes!” and with renewed vigour pushed the larger man away. Pummeling down a dozen punches and kicks he drove the captain into retreat.
With that it was over. The Queen’s Guard fled The Slant. Ogum and Tann barked orders at the cadets to hold back, the fight was done, they were not to pursue. Ogum looked around at the mess, broken wood, smashed homes. Battered men, women and children, laughing in the debris of their homes.
Tann placed his hand on Ogum’s shoulder, trying to catch his breath, “Who were they?”
Ogum looked apologetic. “Queen’s Guard, under orders to clear the slum.” Tann looked worried, then grinned, “well, if we’re going to make mistakes they might as well be in defense of the poor.”
Ogum nodded, “Yep, I guess those are the best mistakes to make.” He smoothed down his sand coloured shirt, “but still, let’s not be too quick to make many more of them. Eh?”