The Harvest Tide Project by Oisin McGann Read Free Book Online Page A

ornacrid carapace was the perfect shape for the bulky form of a Noranian soldier . These shells were the favoured armour of the professional warrior, which meant that the ornacrid was farmed in great quantities in order to remove them from their shells – a process that was fatal to the mollusc.
    The creature that had given its life to provide the foot soldier named Grulk with her body armour had been a particularly handsome specimen. The shell was a deep green with grey streaks that glistened in the morning sun. Grulk, however , did not gleam in the morning sun. Grulk was not a morning person. And she was enjoying being a soldier less and less. There were the constant early mornings for a start. The fact that they had to walk wherever they went. And the fact that they went everywhere – whenever they were told to. And it looked as if she would never be promoted, so she would never be able to tell anybody else when and where to walk. The fighting was getting her down as well. It was pretty certain that one day she was going to go into battle and not come out again. Old Noranian soldiers did not retire or fade away; they got killed. Thoughts like these kept Left-Speartrooper Grulk in a bad mood for most of the time that she spent awake. Lately, even her comrades tried to avoid her; they felt she took the job too personally.
    Today was another house-to-house search. Grulk followedForward-Batterer Wulms with their battlegroup away from the campsite and on into Crickenob. One more dump full of farmers and fishermen. She was so sick of these places. Every house had clean, white-limed walls and turf roofs; the roads were cobbled and children ran around, shouting and screaming like little animals and playing games as if that was all that mattered in the world. Not one of them would have lasted a day in an army training camp.
    One child, not four years old, trotted towards them. She was chasing a ponyip. The colourful bird tweeted and scampered from side to side. Unable to fly with its feathers clipped, it played the little girl’s game, leading her a merry chase down the street. It had a red ribbon tied round its neck, and was obviously a favourite pet. The girl giggled and snorted at the little drop of snot that hung from her nose as a result of all the excitement. She stopped giggling when a big hand swooped down and seized the ponyip by the neck. Grulk held the bird up for closer inspection, and then deposited it in her leather satchel. Lunch.
    The girl stood frozen at the unfairness of this and put a fingertip in her mouth as she decided whether or not she should ask for her pet back. The huge creature with the hard, shiny clothes and the long knives on her belt stared down at her as if she might well be the next into the bag. The little girl turned and scurried back up the road, wailing. Grulk rolled her eyes back and shrugged at the soldiers beside her who were shaking their heads in disdain. There were some depths to which even a Noranian soldier did not sink. Grulk did not care. They would not object to a wing or drumstick come lunchtime.

    A stray mongrel watched the soldier confiscate the ponyip, grimacing in an expression of disgust that had no place on a dog’s face. It was a slightly outlandish-looking dog, with a spiky mane, protruding teeth, and big claws, because Lorkrin liked turning himself into weird things. He had awoken before dawn and, after a short row with Taya over who should have taken first watch, decided to do some scouting around. Strange children were the kind of thing people noticed in a village, but stray dogs could wander relatively unnoticed. He pitied the little girl’s folks, helpless to stop their daughter from being bullied by soldiers. The young Myunan knew his ma and pa would never have stood for that kind of thing, but humans were such a brittle lot.
    Lorkrin was sure that Taya blamed him for this mess they were in. She always did that. She’d go along with his ideas until they got into