I Might Not Know Where I Am, But I Ain't Lost by cmsix

Chapter 1

The walls of Quancho were thick and well guarded; while the lookouts in the tall towers stayed alert and watchful. Archers at the ramparts were vigilant, and that didn't even mention the garrison of three hundred well trained armed men.

They were practiced and ready for trouble, for the whole small rich country had been warned of the army their neighbor had gathered and trained. King Dasga of Perneath intended to ingest the Lagans and bring their whole country into his.

The peasants were resigned. Kings had armies and knights and they fought with each other. It had always been so. Occasionally they burned out a peasant farm or village but it wasn't their real purpose. They wanted to subdue whole countries. Their wars were with each other and the peasants hid while the Kings and their men fought among themselves.

Even the merchant's trains were largely unmolested. What good was it to capture a rich country if the trade was killed off in the process? It was the walled cities that must be dealt with. They guarded the routes of trade and the borders.

That's what had made my proposition to Dasga attractive. My squad had been dumped into this middle-aged type world through no doing of our own. Unknown forces, unknown to us at least, had put us to sleep and when we woke we were somewhere else, we didn't know where, and we didn't know how it had been done.

Our Special Forces training and modern weapons made us the equal of an army of thousands here, but the war we'd been fighting was back on earth; at least we knew where we'd come from.

With three SAWs and three mortars we were formidable in this place and time. And whatever had put us here had made sure we'd stay that way.

When we woke, in a deep wooded area, we had ammunition and supplies for a battalion, even a field kitchen. It was all stacked neatly, still on the pallets for an airdrop. Of course they were in much better shape than they would have been in real conditions, because they hadn't been dropped. They had been set down in place, gently.

Two weeks of recon and sneak attack secured native clothing for us, and one of our first discoveries had been that the local language was perfectly understandable; in fact we could speak it as if we'd been doing so all our lives.

Someone was playing a colossal joke on us, someone with technology we couldn't hope to use or even understand, and a sense of humor that was simply bizarre.

Whether by blind luck or someone's or some thing's design, we were not far from Dasga's Court, in his country's largest city of Blethule. Our reconnoiter done, we captured a small caravan, killed them all, and prepared for our entrance.

We unloaded enough of the goods to make room in the six wagons for some of our weapons, small arms only, since we didn't want a pitched battle inside the city.

We had no problems entering the gate and we were able to find a large inn that could take care of wagons, our stock, and us. Two days and nights of being nosey and listening carefully in the inn's common room earned us enough information, and after midnight the next night we went to visit Dasga, in his bedroom.

Our training and experience let us in via a servant's door and we were even able to subdue, bind, gag, and hide the three different guards we encountered along the way, without having to kill them.

Of course, King Dasga was upset with us at first, and the two concubines in his bed were terrified, but as I made my proposal his anger first diminished and then disappeared.

When the sun rose, King Dasga sent word for a carriage to be readied and even before the royal breakfast, he, I, and the two men who'd accompanied me into his castle departed for one of his sheep farms. I think it was probably less than three miles from the city.

Once we'd arrived and the King had ordered the shepherds around a bit, I strolled out toward about fifty or so grazing sheep and emptied my Glock 34 into them, killing one with each shot, even as they panicked and scattered.

King Dasga was impressed with our magical weapons but not awed yet, so I had Jorgenson approach a different bunch, some distance away, and toss the milling sheep a grenade. After a perfunctory body count, King Dasga was now in complete awe.

"If further proof is required, my king, you can gather a company of your soldiers and I will demonstrate on them," I said.

Further proof was not required, and on the way back to his castle for our delayed breakfast, I explained to the king what I could do for him.

Two weeks later our stolen caravan, slightly enhanced with additional wagons courtesy of King Dasga, entered Quancho's main gate. The alert guards barely noticed us, we weren't attacking after all and they weren't there to regulate trade.

We found an even nicer inn this time and by the next morning Jenkins and Statler had rented a space in the market and they began offering our wares. They also kept their ears open for any loose information. Jorgenson, Jones, and Frankston were circulating through the market searching for men of, shall we say, disreputable appearance.

Chungi was what I would call a ragamuffin. Apparently he was also an aspiring sneak thief. He stepped much too far up in class when he tried to cut Frankston's purse. With an iron grip around Chungi's slim neck, Frankston escorted him to our inn to make my acquaintance.

The innkeeper got a little uppity over Frankston's guest, but three coppers soothed him so that he brought Chungi a bowl of the meaty stew we were having for our lunch.

I didn't even bother to try questioning him in public, I just watched him inhale four bowls of the stew. After which he wanted to leave, if possible, because he hadn't secured any income with which to feed his mother and older sister.

I invited him up to our rooms but he didn't really want to accompany us. Frankston's firm grip around his neck encouraged him though.

After a short discussion with Chungi, during which he did not receive the beating he was expecting, I convinced him to fetch his mother and sister to the in, where we would provide for their care and feeding.

At first he assumed we wanted them for sexual entertainment but we were able to convince him we needed his expertise around Quancho and that, when we left, we would need his mother and sister as cooks. I could tell he was finally convinced it would be an excellent opportunity for his families' advancement, but he was still hesitant for some reason.

"What is the trouble, Chungi? You know you'll all be much better off traveling with us instead of starving in Quancho."

It finally came out that Chungi had been less than truthful with us. Besides his mother, Shealta, and his sister Reenalta, he had a six-year-old brother, Datula and an eight-year-old sister, Preeniestee. And he finally even told us about his sixteen-year-old cousin, Sheleata, too. They all lived together behind the back wall of a different inn's stable yard.

Strangely, Chungi was most reluctant to bring Sheleata to join us. I decided that she must be a prime candidate for rape and pillage and mostly rape. It took a lot of convincing to get Chungi to agree to try and bring them all.

I went back downstairs with him and buttonholed (even though he didn't actually have buttons) the innkeeper. I payed him two weeks in advance for three more rooms and made sure that Chungi understood the rooms were for his extended family.

I also made sure the innkeeper knew in advance that his new tenants would probably be dressed rather rudely.

No doubt said innkeeper could not fathom the reason I was taking in a family of street trash, but he could see that I had money to spend and he offered to have his wife secure suitable clothes for them, at a modest profit no doubt.

Chungi returned with his skittish entourage about an hour and a half later and, even forewarned, the innkeeper was dismayed. Using more tact than I'd expected, he offered to take them to their rooms at once and have a hot meal brought up to them.

"No doubt you will all want to rest after your journey," he said.

They were happy to move away from prying eyes and suspicion in the common room. The innkeeper's wife went with them, I'm sure to get an estimate of the size clothes that would be required, and the troupe scurried upstairs with two maids bearing trays of food following minutes later.

When the innkeeper returned, I paid for baths for everyone, to be administered as soon as possible.

Later, with Chungi's family seen to, we discussed the nature of his employment. It was possible he would rebel at what was obviously a spying mission against the town's rulers. Chungi never mentioned any reservations, and in fact, he seemed delighted at the prospect.

"Remember, no stealing while you're working for me. You really aren't that good at it anyway and I have sufficient funds."

He agreed and sallied forth.

With three days of Chungi's explorations, supported by the information developed by Statler and Jenkins from their stalls and Jorgenson, Jones, and Frankston during daily milling about, and Giles, Conner, and Jerrigan sneaking around after dark - I had a workable plan.

There was no castle in Quancho. The ten officers and their families had a lightly fortified central residence and the garrison troops stayed in four large barracks type buildings that were built against the inside of the main walls.

At sunset the city's gates were closed for the night and not opened again until after sunrise the next morning. The men manning the fortifications came down and the watchers left the towers. Apparently night attacks were an unknown concept.

In fairness to the city's commander, under normal circumstances a night attack would have been useless. The only way an attacker could breach the walls would be with some type of siege engine and you could hardly sneak up in the dark with one.

Unfortunately for the defenders, we'd taken the expedient of coming in during the day, and staying. The officer's residence would have been a tough nut to crack after it was locked up for the night, but I didn't anticipate any problems.

Chungi pointed us to a carpenter who was only too happy to build four three foot by seven foot table tops out of six-inch-thick green oak. Even though, he pointed out, he could not guarantee they wouldn't twist and warp as they dried. I assured him that it wouldn't matter.

The blacksmith that Chungi put us onto had been more troublesome about making sixteen eighteen-inch spikes, three eights of an inch in diameter, but when he saw my silver, he was convinced it was the right thing to do after all. He didn't complain a bit when I came back the next day and ordered the eight three-pound hammers that we'd all forgotten about needing.

In less than a week our table tops, spikes, and hammers were ready. We hired them hauled over to the good-sized warehouse we'd been able to rent and finished our preparations there.

Standard sizes were not highly thought of here and now and it took more snooping around late at night to get the correct measurements of the barrack's doors, but the effort turned out to be trivial.

With the assistance of a tape rule - common in our time and place but unknown here - we were able to position the spikes precisely in our table tops and drive them in until just their points protruded through their tops - or what would have been tops - if they'd actually been table tops.

Just after dark on our go night, wagons delivered a barrel of wine to each barracks but they didn't know who had sent it. The soldiers knew enough to keep quiet about a good thing and at three AM, when we drove the spikes of the table tops into the beams that made the barrack's doorframe, the noise didn't disturb anyone.

Minutes later, one man of each two man door team lobbed a couple of sleeping-gas canisters through the barred windows of each barracks while the other member placed the precut braces against the middle brace of the table top and forced the other end into the space left after removing bricks from the cobbled entrance. With practically all of the garrison's troops trapped in their barracks, one man stayed near the now blocked doors with an M4 carbine and attached grenade launcher to help prevent leakage, the other joined those of us who intended to visit the officers.

We were waiting by the main entrance at four AM when the prearranged flash-bang grenades went off near the center of Quancho. Shortly, officers exited in various stages of dress and we politely knocked them senseless with short clubs, which had also been prearranged. Naturally, the commander was the last to come out and admirably he was fully dressed. I saved him the indignity of unconsciousness by slamming my club into his unprotected abdomen. Unfortunately, he did get a little dirty when he fell, gasping for breath.

We bound their hands behind them with stout plastic ties and herded them inside as they revived. Preliminary questions let us know who was who and I retired with the commander into his office.

Thanks to Chungi's efforts, I already knew that the commander's wife, sixteen-year-old daughter, eight-year-old son, and two serving girls were residing with him.

After he understood that I would stoop so low as to rape both his wife and daughter and then slit his son's throat in their presence after I'd finished with them, he was only too happy to tell me everything I wanted to know about his situation.

Unfortunately, he didn't really know shit. I guess that was understandable, since there weren't many secrets to middle age type warfare and siege craft. The biggest army won, and a fortress could usually hold on until it was out of food.

Quancho was particularly well supplied and had plentiful access to water from several deep wells within the walls. Those walls were all sound and I even learned from him of the basement and tunnel that stretched more than a quarter mile to a hidden exit just inside the nearest wood line.

That was about all he could tell me, so I shot him in the left eye and went looking for his quarters. It was apparent when I neared them that quarters was a misnomer, luxury suite would have been more appropriate.

I wasn't completely surprised when I entered through the unlocked door. We'd all noticed that one of the peculiarities of our new world was the attractiveness of the women.

Even the peasant women were remarkably lovely. For instance, Chungi's mother, Shealta, was very attractive even after four children and years of poverty. Now, with regular baths and a decent diet her looks were improving every day.

Commander Junga's well-fed, well-tended widow, Jareeta, was beautiful. Standing probably five foot six, with below the shoulders wavy auburn hair, a small waist, wide hips and large firm full breasts, she was the most beautiful woman I'd seen in person in either world, and a quick glance showed that her daughter, Shaela, was a not quite as lush younger version. Even the two honey-blonde serving girls, Kala and Myrta, were spectacular.

They were also all very surprised at the night-camo BDU wearing monster that had just violated the sanctity of the boudoir. While they were gaping I looked around and noticed the young boy clinging desperately to one of the serving girls' skirts.

I shut the door that I'd left open and then stepped over to him as he tried to hide even farther behind Kala's skirt. Fastening one of his wrist to one of hers with two plastic ties I told her to take him to another room and tell anyone who came in that Lt Cargile had sent them their and that they weren't to be bothered. I knew my men would be searching the place and I wanted the boy and his tasty guardian to be safe.