Theros Ironfield

Chapter 11

Theros awoke with a start. The fire had gone out. Only embers remained.

A very distant scream, one of terror and pain, had stopped as suddenly as it had started. It was so distant. Theros had no idea from which direction it had come.

He sat up, hurriedly tossed dirt and sand over the glowing embers. Could it be elves? Who was doing the screaming?

Theros continued to listen. His nerves were stretched. He could feel his heart beat, hard and strong, the adrenaline keeping him awake and alert.

The scream came again and now sounded quite close. Theros was on his feet, Nevek’s axe swaying gently back and forth, waiting. Huluk was awake, too, propped up on his side. A red glow erupted from behind them. Theros turned around. The glow intensified. A tree was burning. He saw, in silhouette, a body flailing, black against the flames, but he heard no sound.

As suddenly as it had appeared, the red glow vanished, as if the tree’s flame had been snuffed out.

Sorcery. It had to be.

Theros crouched, afraid to move, not knowing what might leap out at him from the darkness. And then, the flapping of the wings of a huge bird, black in the night, nearly bowled Theros over. The bird came and was gone. A red glow shimmered where the bird had vanished. Theros was reminded of something, vague childhood terrors came back to him.

He maintained his crouched stance and waited. The attack was sure to come.

After a good hour of silence, the sounds of the woods began to return. Crickets began to chirp, leaves rustled in the wind. Huluk had fallen back to sleep. Puzzled and tired, Theros sat back down, rubbing the knots in his aching legs. He leaned against a tree, the axe across his lap, but he stayed awake until daylight.

The sun was nearly halfway up the trees before Theros dared to move. With the light, his courage began to revive. He stood up, looked around and woke Huluk.

“What is it?” Huluk asked in an urgent tone. Then he sighed. “Oh, it is morning.” He rolled gingerly onto his stomach, then stood.

“We had visitors last night,” Huluk said, recalling the incident. “Very strange. Did you find out who it was?”

Theros shook his head no. “I did not leave your side. I saw a tree on fire and a body and a … well, that’s not important. Now that you are awake, I’m going to search for tracks just up the hill.”

“Wait, help me. I will come with you.”

They did not search long before they found the site. Blood had been spattered everywhere. An elf’s body was propped up against a tree. Its arms and legs were missing. The eyes had been pecked out.

The two stood staring for several moments.

“An elf scout. He must have seen us, but he certainly didn’t report back. What exactly did you see?” Huluk demanded.

“I saw a red glow, then a bird,” Theros answered reluctantly, afraid he would not be believed. “It flew past me. But surely a bird could not have done this!”

Huluk lowered his voice. “Not a bird. It was Sargas. He came to answer my prayers of vengeance against the elves, to aid our cause. I have been blessed by a sign from my god. We are to continue our fight.”

“Sargas?” Theros asked. “Surely you cannot believe that Sargas came here to save us from elf scouts …”

Theros’s words died away. Memory returned clearly. The first night after he had been taken into slavery. The giant black bird glowing red in the night, flying above the ship and swooping down.

Theros murmured to himself. “It was real. He does exist. Honor, I remember.”

Huluk placed his hand on Theros’s shoulder. “Feel blessed. Sargas, the god of the minotaurs, must find us worthy. To be saved by him is a great honor.”

Theros helped Huluk back to their camp. They drank the remaining water, picked up their possessions and headed back down the road.

Several minutes later, they came across two more elves, both killed in the same manner as the first. Sheer terror was mirrored in their faces, their features locked in the scream they had never finished.

The two travelers did not tarry long. They continued on. Three hours later, they took a break. Theros thought he heard running water, and went in search of it. Sure enough, he returned in ten minutes with a filled waterskin and several large mushrooms.

“Here, eat!” he said to Huluk.

The minotaur gave the mushrooms a scathing glance, shook his head. “Without meat, I cannot eat such things. My stomach would reject them. I will be fine as long as I get meat in the next day or two. Here, give me some of that fresh water.”

Theros handed over the skin, then wolfed down the mushrooms. They settled the growls in his stomach.

“Do you really think that was Sargas back there?”

Huluk handed the skin back. “Yes, I am sure. We all have been taught the signs. He appears to our enemies first, blazing a path of terror before him. It is said that he always exacts some form of revenge for the defeat of a minotaur on the field of battle. When he appears to his own kind, he is seen as a bird-”

“-glowing red but appearing black,” Theros finished. “That is what I saw last night.”

Huluk looked incredulously at the human. “So you said, but I couldn’t believe it. You saw Sargas, too? Are you a believer of Sargas? You would have to be, or he would not have shown himself to you. There have been very few actual sightings of Sargas. All have been chronicled in the great books by the followers. I know of no incident, though, in which a human witnessed such an event. And lived to tell of it, of course,” Huluk added offhandedly.

They continued down the road. Huluk was having more and more difficulty keeping up. The wound stayed sealed, but the pain was intensifying. His muscles and joints were stiffening. Without proper cleaning and salves, the wound could putrify again.

An hour later, they had to stop for Huluk to rest. Huluk took another drink from the skin, but lowered it quickly. He pointed into the forest.

“I saw movement. It could be another elven patrol. Leave me here and circle around, and see what you can find out.”

Theros tried in vain to see anything. Taking the axe, he circled into the brush. He moved forward, half crawling, half running, bending over to conceal himself.

He stopped when he saw movement ahead. A large figure was peering out from behind a tree. The horns sticking out of the side of his head showed him to be a minotaur. Breathing a sigh of relief, Theros stood up. The minotaur’s eyes widened. He reached out with his axe held high, ready to strike.

Theros dropped his axe. “Stop! Stop! I am on your side! Stop!” he cried in the minotaur’s own language.

His pleas were echoed from behind the first minotaur. Another minotaur voice shouted, “Stop!”

The first minotaur halted, looked up the road. Nevek stood on the roadway, out of breath with his exertion. His wrists were manacled. “This is the human that aided Commander Huluk. He carries my axe!” Nevek motioned.

Ten more minotaurs emerged from the trees and walked forward, each with his weapon at the ready.

One of the minotaurs glared suspiciously at Theros. “If that is true, where is the commander?”

Huluk appeared, limping through the trees. “Here. Good to see you again, Nevek.” He turned to face the suspicious minotaur. “You see, Nevek didn’t murder me and make off in the night. You could learn much about trust and honor from this human.”

The other minotaurs bowed at the approach of the officer. Huluk’s horns were wider than the rest. His medallions showed him to be a skilled warrior.

“Commander, it is good to find you alive!” said one of the minotaurs.

Huluk chuckled. “I take it that you found Nevek here, running down the road. He carried my axe with him and you naturally assumed that he had murdered me and made off with my fine weapon. He had deserted from the Third Army, and you were keen enough to catch him. Is that it?”

The junior officer nodded his head slightly. He was the one now carrying Huluk’s axe. “Yes, sir. Well, not exactly, sir. Surely no one could expect me to send part of my patrol back to the village to report on the warrior’s wild story of the Third Army being completely wiped out, and to ask us to believe that a human slave who is not a slave was helping you to escape the elves?”

If Huluk had been well, he would have bashed the young officer across the jaw and sent him sprawling. Instead, he growled in high displeasure. “All of what Nevek has told you is true. And take those manacles off of my officer!”

The other minotaurs grunted and shook their horned heads. One removed Nevek’s manacles. All looked incredulous.

“No, listen,” Huluk continued, “I believe that Nevek and I, along with this human, are the only survivors of the army. The elves tricked us, routed us completely. Send your best runner back to the village to update the garrison commander. Tell Blevros that I am alive and not as well as I could be, but better than the elves had planned. Tell him that the army has been defeated, and to make whatever preparations he has been ordered to make by the Supreme Circle in this contingency. Further, tell …”

Huluk wavered, sagged, collapsed. The young officer yelled for two of the large warriors to aid the senior officer. Theros, standing to the side, was forgotten. He quietly cleared his throat to get the officer’s attention.

“Sir, I think that we should make a carrying seat from two strong branches and take Commander Huluk back to the village. He is not well, and I think his fever is returning.”

The officer clearly did not want to take advice from a human-slave or no slave. “Fetch branches,” he ordered his men. “We will make a carrying seat for the commander.” He glared at Theros, daring him to say something.

Theros kept a straight face, did what he could to make Huluk more comfortable.

The minotaurs returned with two straight branches, each about six feet long and about six inches wide. They had cleared off the attached branches and twigs with their axes. They held the poles like a stretcher, then lowered the poles to permit Huluk to straddle them. The minotaurs lifted the poles, allowing the commander to sit on them with only mild discomfort. Theros found a small branch to use as a crossbeam and asked for some rope. One of the warriors produced a length. He cut it in two, and the two of them secured it across the two beams, forming a backrest.

They were once again mobile. Huluk barked at the junior officer. “Don’t you damned well drop my axe! It’s been in my family for more than ten generations. Lose it or damage it and you will face me in battle! I’ve already lost a valuable breastplate.” He glanced at Theros and winked. It was the nearest the minotaur would ever come to an apology or to thanks.

Theros, understanding, smiled and nodded.

The officer grunted, obviously not understanding. He fastened his own axe to the holster on his back. He carried Huluk’s axe with the sort of reverence usually reserved for religious objects.

They headed for the village on the run.