Don Perrin - Theros Ironfield

Theros found he was still staring at the woman. She was pretty, but now that he regarded her closely, she looked worn and much too thin. Moorgoth worked everyone hard, men and women both. And only the soldiers were guaranteed a good meal. When the supplies ran low, those who did the cooking, not the fighting, were the first to go hungry. Her life could not be an easy one. And now she looked almost sick with terror.

A wagon rolling past halted, its driver stopping to watch the interesting action on the roadside.

Theros regained his composure and yelled back to the driver. “What are you stopping for? Nobody ordered a halt!”

He turned on his heel and walked up past the commissary wagons to the front of the line. He couldn’t get the woman’s fearful eyes out of his mind. He saw them, and he saw the bodies of the women in the ditch. He remembered Yuri’s words.

I don’t feel fit to live .

Theros walked along alone, immersed in thought. He didn’t realize he’d reached his own wagons, until Belhesser yelled back at him, breaking his reverie.

“What is it, Belhesser?”

Belhesser held out his map. “Would you say that hill over there was this hill here?” He indicated a spot on the map just beyond where they were to set up camp.

Theros took the map and studied it for a moment. He found the road on the map, and looked up to compare it to the terrain before him.

“Yes, that’s the spot all right.”

The wagons continued moving down the road. Theros walked back to his wagons. Yuri walked alongside, his head down. Theros tried to forget that he had struck Yuri, decided to pretend that the incident never happened. Again, he said to himself that it was for the young man’s good.

If the spy was among the commissary people, then anyone from Theros’s section caught talking to anyone in Cheldon’s section would be immediately suspect.

He even tried explaining this to Yuri, who only stared at Theros incredulously, managing to look as dumb as a tent post.

“Spy?” Yuri repeated stupidly. “What do you mean?”

At length, Theros gave up.

“Forget it. Just obey me on this one. I don’t ever want to see you with that young woman again. For her sake, as well as yours. Now, run ahead and find me a good site for the smithy. We’re to set up once we get the word.” Theros turned to one of the soldiers. “Erela, go back and tell the sergeant of the commissary that the place there, in front of that hill”-he pointed-“is where we set up camp.”

The two set off at a run.

The sun was at the hilltop ahead of them by the time they had the wagons into position. Yuri had removed the digging implements from the smith’s wagon, and he and the soldiers dug a pit for the forge. Two of the soldiers were sent to find enough wood to last them for the next few days. Theros went off to talk with Belhesser.

“Listen, do you know anything about a woman in the commissary by the name of Telera?”

Belhesser leered. “So, you’ve got your eye-?”

“No, not at all.” Theros snorted. “I just need to know something about her.”

Belhesser gave him a puzzled look. “I know that she works as an assistant for Hercjal in bread-making. She joined us in Sanction. Said she was orphaned. Fever took her folks. That’s all I know. Why do you ask?”

Theros passed it off with an easy shrug. “I thought I knew her from the Belching Fury. I guess I was mistaken. It’s not important.”

Belhesser winked. “You have got your eye on her. You sly dog. Well, good luck to you. Not that there’ll be much time for slap and tickle in the next day or two. Are your wagons in position? Don’t set up your forge until I order it. If we’re losing, I want to be able to get out of here before those accursed knights catch us.”

Theros returned to his smithy and found the forge pit had been built to his liking. The earth in the area was hard and rocky. The men had dug down with shovels and picks, forming a bowl in the center of the spot where Theros had indicated he wanted the smithy. The pit was lined with larger stones that they had found or dug up, forming a good fire reflector.

The soldiers were cutting up the dead wood that they had hauled in and were stacking it beside the pit, ready to start the fire when needed. Yuri was over in the wagon, checking to make sure that none of the tools had shifted or been damaged. Theros left him alone to do his job. He had harassed him enough for one day.

Theros walked up the hill a short distance and sat down, looking over the site. The commissary section was set up at the edge of the hill, forming the close side of the square. The quartermaster’s stores were a couple of hundred feet past the commissary, forming the far side of the square. The smithy was going to be on the left side as Theros looked down from the hill. The right side was open, and beyond it was where the infantrymen would set up tent lines.

As the sun sank lower behind the hill and it grew too dark to see, Theros’s thoughts turned inward.

What is going on inside of me? I am an honorable man. I should never have agreed to take this job, no matter how much money it paid. Moorgoth has men whipped almost to death if they commit the smallest infraction. He murdered those poor women, when it would have been just as easy to take them prisoner. He destroyed my forge, and instead of killing him, as any minotaur would have done, I came along with him! I took his blood money!

Admit it, Theros, he thought ruefully, you wanted to be back with a fighting unit. You wanted the thrill of battle, the glory of the kill. Glory! He blew air through his nose. We’re nothing more than uniformed, organized bandits.

Theros shook his head, stared down at the ground. And how do I explain today? How do I explain the way I treated Yuri? I can’t. And this isn’t the first time. He was right, that day he yelled at me. I treat him like a slave. And I know how it feels, to be treated like a slave.

Sargas take me! What do I do? I have accepted Moorgoth’s money. We have a contract. It would be dishonorable to leave his army. Dangerous, too, Theros thought. Undoubtedly, he would think I was the spy. Yet I see no honor in staying. What do I do?

Theros raised his eyes to the heavens. “Sargas, give me a sign. Give me direction. That’s all I ask. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Theros watched and waited, thinking that he might see the gigantic black bird with the fiery wings that had come to him before, No sign came, but perhaps now was not the time.

Feeling more at ease now that he had shared his burden with Sargas, Theros stood up and walked back down the hill. Undoubtedly, someone would be looking for him by now, wanting the answer to some fool question.

He wondered how Moorgoth’s army was doing.

The army hiding in the forest waited for over an hour with no news. The wait was unnerving. Nothing could be seen in the town. Nothing could be seen in the fields surrounding the town. Nothing.

A soldier crept through the underbrush to the baron’s side. “Sir, no sign of anything,” he whispered. “The scouts have seen no sign of the enemy.”

Moorgoth nodded and the soldier crept back into the underbrush, back to his place farther up the line. They continued to wait.

Suddenly, from their front, came a rumbling sound, rolling from the town and growing louder. Moorgoth rose to his feet and looked into the town. He pulled a spyglass from a pouch on his belt, and put it to his eye.

Smoke was rising. Flames flickered on the far side of the town. The smoke was obscuring his vision, but the baron could make out individual buildings and the roads between them. He kept his eye on the main road that led into the town.