Don Perrin - Theros Ironfield

Theros nodded. “I can do ironsmithing, but I was trained as a weapons-smith. Still, I’ll be able to produce whatever you need, as long as I’ve got the forge, the tools, and the steel to do the job.”

Koromer described what tools were available. Theros considered them, decided he could use a few more. He turned to Hirinthas. “Look, when you go back to Solace, please see if you can find a-”

Hirinthas said quietly, “I’m not going back to Solace, Master Ironfeld. However, I will be glad to find someone who is, and have him perform the task.”

Koromer jerked a thumb toward the elf sitting with him. Theros understood.

He grunted. “So I’m to have my own personal watchdog, is that it?”

“It is for your own safety,” Hirinthas replied, a faint flush mantling his cheeks. Even he had the grace to feel somewhat ashamed. “My charge was to see you safely through the forests of Qualinesti. You are still here. Until you leave, I will be your guard. The same is true of Taranthas here. We will protect both you and Master Vlusaj until you leave our service.”

Theros could guess what the elf’s statement really meant: And we will protect our people from contact with you humans .

Koromer and Theros exchanged glances. It wasn’t worth arguing with the elf over the matter. He had his orders. And Theros had to admit that the thought of having a guard was somewhat comforting. The elves were at war, and there was no reason that he should become a casualty. He’d just have to view Hirinthas as a bodyguard, not a prison guard.

Theros turned back to Koromer, and together they began to map out a strategy to build the first elven fleet.

“She’s not pretty, but she’ll do.” Theros said.

“Aye, that she will,” said Koromer, regarding their work with pride.

They looked out over the pier at the last of the evacuation ships. Her elven name was Spiriniltan’thimis . Koromer, who had difficulty with the language, did not even try to pronounce it. He just called it “Spirit.”

Theros stood with the shipwright and their two ever-present elf bodyguards. They had spent the last eleven months producing the ships for the evacuation of Qualinesti. This one would join her sisters, now sailing the run between Quivernost, on the shores of the Qualinesti Nation, and Qualimori, on the southern end of Southern Ergoth. A crew of elves were busy aloft, finishing the rigging of the ship.

“She’ll make her first run in three days. She’s a fine ship. But I’ve got to admit you’re right, Theros. She sure isn’t pretty.” Koromer had designed the ship to be long and flat, with only two main sail masts, the same as the three previous ships. “But she’ll do the job.”

The run to Qualimori took only three days across open ocean. The ship was not designed to stay at sea for months or even weeks. This design permitted the maximum load capacity. She could carry eight hundred elves, with minimal provisions, or five hundred with a full cargo load.

Hirinthas could not share in the compliments. The squat, rolling vessel obviously offended his sensibilities. He said something to his fellow elf in their native tongue. Theros understood, although he pretended he didn’t. He’d managed to pick up quite a bit of the elven language during his stay among them, but he was careful not to flaunt his knowledge. He couldn’t ever learn to pronounce the words the way the elves did, and they always winced when they heard him butcher their beautiful language.

“Like the others, it is obviously a human-designed ship,” Hirinthas said.

Had this been an elven ship, it would have been as sleek as a flying fish and just as useless. This was one of the reasons, Theros guessed, that Gilthanas had hired humans to build the ships. They did not have time to manufacture beautiful ships-just functional ships.

Theros had set up his forge in a building near the pier. He made all of the nails, pulleys, chains and metal braces. Koromer specified each piece with a diagram, and the two discussed the size and feel and weight of the piece. Theros then built one for testing. Once Koromer approved, Theros began to produce them in the quantities needed.

Eventually, they had built a fleet of four ships. Gilthanas calculated that it would take four of these ships, each running day and night, to evacuate the main population of the Qualinesti Nation in time. Already, fifteen thousand elves had made the crossing to Qualimori. They had started as soon as the first ship was operational and kept going. Now, with three ships in operation, they were ferrying over two thousand elves across every week. With this fourth ship, they could take nearly three thousand.

The first ship had been the hardest to build. They worked from a preliminary design that Koromer had developed. Changes were made daily to the working design as they found problems or ideas that just didn’t work. Theros and Koromer almost came to blows over a rudder fitting that Koromer had Theros build, then rebuild, then build again, all because of changes in design. The final version worked, and they settled their differences. Now, after four successful launches, they counted on each other as friends.

And one morning, Theros woke up and realized that, for the first time in his life, he was happy. After years of living in a stinking, crowded city, he enjoyed being back near the sea again, hearing the endless song of the waves and the cries of the birds, breathing in the clean, fresh sea air. He worked hard during the day and spent his nights eating and drinking and talking with Koromer.

Now, seeing the final ship nearly launched, Theros went aboard to inspect her. He found her to be seaworthy and left the finishing of the work and the cleaning up to the elven crew. He turned his thoughts and steps toward a well-earned dinner. The sun had already started to set by the time he arrived at the meeting hall.

A cheer went up as Theros entered. Koromer was already seated at a table, holding a large mug. Theros smiled, bowed to the crowd of elves, and headed straight for Koromer.

“Hey! Where did you get that?” Theros demanded, staring into Koromer’s mug. If his eyes didn’t deceive him, Koromer was drinking ale! It had been many months since Theros had tasted ale.

Koromer pointed to a small keg sitting on the floor beside him. He took a spare mug from the table and filled it with dark, foaming ale. Theros’s mouth began to water.

“Gilthanas brought us a present! He says it’s from a place in Solace known as the Inn of the Last Home. Here, try it. It’s beyond compare!”

Theros lifted the mug and drained it in a swallow. The ale was woodsy and bitter and cut through the salt tang that always seemed to be in his mouth. He had never in his life tasted anything so delicious. Putting down the mug, he wiped his eyes, unable to speak for a short time.

Koromer, laughing, filled the mug again.

“This is really good. Did you say Gilthanas is here?”

“Yes, he’s over in the corner, talking to Hirinthas,” Koromer said.

“I’m going to talk to him. Want to come?”

Koromer shook his head emphatically. “I’m not leaving this keg until it’s empty!”

Theros laughed. Taking his foaming mug, he headed over to the corner Koromer had indicated.

Gilthanas actually did him the honor of rising to greet him. “Theros Ironfeld. It is good to see you. We owe you much, not only for your work, but for your loyalty and your patience. I know that living among our people cannot have been easy for you.”

He spoke in Qualinesti elven, obviously expecting that Theros would understand him. Theros glanced at Hirinthas. The elf was more observant than Theros had realized.

Theros made a suitable reply, also in Qualinesti, doing his best to pronounce the slippery words. As he did, he studied Gilthanas. The elf looked much thinner than when Theros had seen him last. He was haggard, gaunt and seemed tired to the point of exhaustion. Still, he held himself straight, demonstrating his royal lineage.