Don Perrin - Theros Ironfield

“Tell me the truth, damn you,” he said.

Telera licked her lips, swallowed. But her voice was strong and steady. “I am the daughter of a knight. My father was murdered by Baron Moorgoth and his men when they raided our castle. I escaped by hiding in the woods. When I came back home, I found the bodies …”

She blinked her eyes. Yuri took hold of her hand.

After a moment, Telera continued. “I swore revenge on Moorgoth. But I’m a female and am not trained as a warrior. What could I do? I decided I would join his band, and whenever I could, get word to my father’s friends about what the army was doing, how many men it numbered. I used Yuri to get information. He didn’t know-”

“I found out, sir,” Yuri added. “I was glad to be able to help, even though Telera didn’t want to put me in danger. And I’ll keep on being glad, no matter what they do to me. Only please, sir, see to it that no harm comes to Telera.”

“I’ll die at their hands before I’d leave without Yuri!” Telera said firmly. “I could not die in better company than with Yuri and the gallant knights. My only regret,” she added bitterly, “is that I failed. Moorgoth and his army live still.”

“Not all of them. Not by a long shot. At least you’ve accomplished that much,” Theros muttered the words and he hadn’t realized he’d spoken them aloud until he saw the two looking at him with dawning hope.

“Do you mean that, sir?” Yuri could scarcely talk.

Theros didn’t answer. He was thinking. “Listen, Telera, do you know your way around this countryside?”

“Yes, sir. I was born and raised not far from here.”

“You could find your way, even in the darkness?”

“Yes, sir. And it won’t be that dark tonight. The moonlight will be bright enough to walk by.”

“Good. On the other side of the hill is a line of trees. No one’s around. You won’t have a better chance. Head for those trees. Wait there. You’ll be joined by others.”

“By you, sir?” Yuri was gazing at Theros with the respect and admiration Theros had long sought from his apprentice. “Will you meet us, sir? You’ll be in danger yourself if they discover that I’ve gone.”

“Never mind me. Do what you’re told for once in your life.” Theros growled, but he smiled at the same time.

“Yes, sir,” Yuri said softly. “Sir, I want to thank-”

“No time.” Theros cut him off. “Belhesser will be looking for us. I’ll cover for you. Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

Telera rested her hand briefly, hesitantly, on Theros’s big arm.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, simply.

Theros grunted and nodded. Then, lifting the flap, he went back outside, looked around. No one was nearby. He motioned for the two to come.

Yuri took Telera’s hand, and together they slipped out of the tent and dashed into the forest. Theros waited for a moment to be sure that they had made good their escape, then he turned back to his smithy. He had the feeling that, no matter what happened, he would never see Yuri again. Theros wished him and Telera well.

At the smithy, the soldiers were sitting around, waiting for the chance to eat. Theros waved his hand.

“Go on, men. Get in line. We’re to eat inside the commissary tent tonight with the quartermaster’s staff. He’s saved some wine for us, too.”

The soldiers jumped up, grabbed their bowls, and rushed off to get in the food line.

Theros took his own cup and dropped it into one of the buckets sitting beside the water barrels. He filled the bucket and walked out of the tent. He looked around to see if anyone was watching. On the far side, he could see campfires, with men sitting around them, eating and drinking and celebrating.

No one was paying attention to the prisoners in the center. There was no need. The knights had given their word of honor that they would not try to escape. Moorgoth respected the knights’ word, even though he obviously thought them fools for making such an absurd promise. The baron would teach them their folly tonight.

Perhaps the knights are fools, Theros thought, but only because they believe that other men are as honorable as themselves.

Carrying the bucket of water, Theros walked up to the knights. Most had cast off their metal breastplates and other armor. Theros went to Sir Richard, who looked up warily.

“Here, take a drink,” Theros said.

The knight grabbed the cup from Theros’s hand and drank it dry. He passed the cup to the next knight, who refilled it from the bucket. One of the knights held the cup to the lips of the injured man.

Sir Richard was on his feet. “Thank you,” he said grudgingly. “Perhaps you can tell us what’s going on. No one has spoken to us about ransom or prisoner exchange-”

Theros interrupted. “That’s why I am here. There will be no ransom. No exchange. Tonight, you and your men are to be made a form of ‘entertainment’ for the troops. I think you can guess what that means.”

By the grim look on his face, it was clear Sir Richard knew what was in store for him and his men. “Baron Moorgoth promised-”

“He is a man without honor,” Theros said, ashamed. “As an officer in this army, I cannot stop what he means to do to you, but as a man of honor, I cannot condone it. I advise you to do whatever is in your power to preserve your command. I know you’ve given your word to an officer that you will not escape. Well, I’m an officer, and I release you from your word.”

“Are you suggesting that we-” Sir Richard began.

Theros halted him. “I wish you well and hope that Sargas sees you through the night. If you happen to be walking around over by that line of trees, you’ll find people there who can aid you. You can trust them.”

Theros turned and walked away quickly.

He entered his tent. He’d done what he could for the knights. They were on their own now. All Theros had to do was make certain that no one noticed Yuri was missing for at least a day or so. As Belhesser had said, Moorgoth would be in a good mood following his victory. He wouldn’t be worrying about spies now.

Picking up his bowl, Theros left for the commissary tent.

Theros entered the food tent with his bowl in hand. Theldon Sarger and Belhesser Vankjad sat at a table to one side. The rest of the tent was filled with workers and soldiers employed by the commissary, quartermaster and smithy. His four assistants were sitting with women from the commissary, laughing and drinking, happy to be away from their duties for a while.

Theros went to join them. The soldiers, seeing him approach, jumped to their feet.

Theros waved them down. “No, that’s all right. Stay seated. Have a good time tonight. Don’t worry about the forge. I’ve posted Yuri on sentry duty at the forge tonight. He’ll wake one of you at sunrise to take over.”

Erela answered for the group. “Yes sir. Thank you, sir.”

Theros turned back to the officers’ table.

Belhesser looked up. “Ah, Theros, I was wondering where you had gotten to. We saved you some food and wine.”

The officer handed Theros a goblet full of rich red wine. Theros accepted it and sat down with the others.

Cheldon leaned back in his chair. He looked up at Theros. “I saw you over with the prisoners. I trust you were just there to make certain that their chains were still good and tight.”

“I took them some water,” Theros answered, refusing to lie. “They fought well, from what I’ve heard. They were suffering from thirst.”

Belhesser frowned, displeased. He stared hard at Theros. “It’ll all be the same when Baron Moorgoth puts them through their paces. They’ll wish they were never born on the face of Ansalon after tonight!” He laughed.