Theros Ironfield

Chapter 17

“Get a crate for these tools,” Theros ordered Yuri. “We’ll need to take them with us. And gather up those leather tools and supplies. Secure what we aren’t taking into crates and nail them shut.”

Theros was standing in the shop of the army’s former weapons-smith, gathering up tools and other supplies.

Yuri did as he was instructed. “Sir, I’ll have to go down to the carpenter for more crates. We have just two left. He’ll want to be paid for them.”

Theros handed over the money. He was busy going through the back stock of weapons, deciding which ones to take. He gazed at most of them in disgust. No wonder Moorgoth had gone to all the trouble to burn down Theros’s forge. The baron needed a good weapons-smith badly. Theros almost felt flattered.

Almost.

Yuri came back an hour later with two men from the carpenter’s shop, each carrying a large crate. They set the crates down in the middle of the smithy. Yuri had just started to load tools into the first crate when Baron Moorgoth entered the shop.

“Good! I see that you are nearly packed. I will send a horse and wagon around in two hours.”

Theros was preoccupied. “Yuri! Hurry up with those weapons!” He glanced at the baron. “Where is the army camped? Outside of town? How many men do you have?”

To Theros’s amazement, Moorgoth flushed in anger.

“You’re asking a lot of damned questions, Ironfeld. From now on, you’re just another officer under my command. You’ll go where I tell you to go and do what I tell you to do. You’ll be told where to go when you report with your wagons.”

Moorgoth left, saying something about meeting the new logistics officer.

Theros stared after the man. It had been a simple question, nothing more. It seemed logical that the weapons-smith should know how many men were in the army he was to be responsible for outfitting. And why shouldn’t he know where the army was camped? Eventually, he returned to his work.

Yuri completed packing the box of tools and extra weapons. The crates were heavy, but they were going to be loaded onto a cart, not carried by hand, so the weight didn’t matter.

“What should I do now, Theros?” Yuri asked.

Theros wouldn’t admit it, but it pleased him to hear a new note of respect in the boy’s voice.

* * * * *

The wagons arrived at precisely the hour Moorgoth had named. Theros was ready. He and Yuri and the wagon’s driver hoisted two of the crates onto the wagon. Theros and Yuri carried two more to the back storage area of the smith for safekeeping. Then came the hard part-time to move the anvil.

Yuri and the driver both stared at the anvil blankly. Neither could even budge the heavy object.

Theros waved them both away. He dragged the anvil from its place in the abandoned forge to the back of the wagon. Once there, Theros paused to rest. Then, flexing his muscles, he bent down in a crouch. With a forceful grunt, he lifted the anvil and, sweating with the exertion, maneuvered it carefully into the back end of the wagon, placing it directly over the axle.

The wagon driver told them that they would meet the rest of the force near the center of town. Yuri hoisted his small bag of personal belongings onto the wagon. Theros carried his somewhat larger sack over his shoulder. Now that he had recovered from the shock of losing his forge, Theros found himself almost looking forward to this new adventure. In his mind, he could already hear the call of the trumpet. He climbed up onto the wagon.

“Roll out,” he ordered.

* * * * *

Four more wagons were assembled in a side street off the plaza. Theros’s wagon joined in at the end of the line. The baron was on hand to make introductions.

“Cheldon Sarger, our quartermaster,” said the baron.

Cheldon Sarger was a middle-aged human with a face that looked as if it had been dipped in his own cooking oil. He was broad, much like Theros, but Cheldon’s girth was made of fat, not muscle. Cheldon’s job was to keep the army supplied. He maintained the food, clothing, uniforms, weapons and armor in stock. The weapons and armor would be provided by Theros. The rest Cheldon would have to acquire from the locals, either by bartering or buying or, as Cheldon said with a wink, stealing.

Theros thought the man was kidding.

Belhesser Vankjad was the new logistics officer, the person in charge of both Cheldon and Theros. Belhesser was a tall, thin man, with a pointed face like a ferret. Belhesser looked like a half-elf, but always declared vehemently that he wasn’t. He had previously worked in the port authority. His job was twofold. He handled supplies, maintenance of weapons and armor, and acquisition of new materials. He was also like Huluk, in that he was responsible for a section of line soldiers who would defend the rear area in case it was overrun. In addition, he was responsible for transport-the wagons and horses that would keep the army rolling.

The final man that Moorgoth introduced was named Uwel Lors. And if Belhesser resembled a half-elf, Uwel resembled a half-goblin. Theros had never imagined one person could be so ugly. An older man, in his late forties, Uwel looked every bit as tough as the steel armor chain mail that he wore. Uwel appeared to be friendly enough, however. He saluted smartly, then shook hands with Theros.

“Good day, sir. It’s a pleasure to have a new smith with us, sir.” Uwel had a strange, clipped way of talking. “I am responsible for the dress, drill, deportment and most of all, the discipline of the rank and file in this army. I am not an officer like yourselves, sir, but I am the senior ranking nonofficer in the army. If you have a discipline problem, come to me.

“Now sir, I understand that you’ve fought with minotaur armies before, but never with a human army. Is this true?”

Theros frowned and nodded yes. He was angered, thinking that Uwel might mean this for some sort of insult.

“Not to worry, sir!” Uwel said brightly. “We’re run a little different, and with a lot more discipline than those huge beasts. Still, we get the job done.”

Uwel saluted and went back to the front of the wagon train to confer with the drivers.

Baron Moorgoth slapped Theros on the back. Whatever ill humor the baron had been in back at the forge, he seemed to have regained his good temper among his men. “Introductions are over. Let’s get on the road!”

The army commander barked an order to Uwel in the front. The drivers mounted their wagons. Uwel called “Forward!” in a voice that seemed to echo through the city, and the first wagon lurched into motion.

Everyone walked except the drivers with their loads. There were four officers, including the army commander and Theros, and twenty other men, not counting the drivers.

The wagon train rounded a corner, rolling past the Belching Fury. At the sight, the barmaids poured out of the tavern and into the street. They exchanged banter with the passing men.

Theros looked around to see if there was any sign of Marissa. From inside the inn, she saw him and waved, then suddenly ran outside to the line of men. They all tried to catch hold of her, including Baron Moorgoth, who clearly thought she was running out to greet him. She avoided them all and came straight to Theros. Putting her arms around him, she gave him a warm, deep kiss.

“I heard about what happened to your forge. Don’t worry. You’ll make your fortune with the baron. When you get back, you come and look me up!” Marissa said and, laughing, she ran back to the inn.

The men cheered. Theros felt his face burn, but it was burning with pleasure. The baron, looking back, was clearly displeased. He motioned to Uwel Lors, said something to the half-goblin. Uwel nodded and fell out of the line of moving wagons. Theros, who could still feel Marissa’s kiss on his lips, didn’t pay any attention.

The wagon train continued on through the city, moving north.

Theros could think only of Marissa. “Why is it,” he muttered to himself, “that good things only come to me when I’ve got to leave them behind?”

* * * * *

The men and wagons joined the road that would take them across the north pass through the Guardian Mountains and then through the Khalkist Mountains, leading to a city known as Neraka. Theros had never heard of it.

It took four days for the wagons to cross the mountains. When they reached Neraka, Theros thought it seemed ordinary enough, much like any other city, with stone buildings and market stalls and more people than it knew what to do with. But he hadn’t been in the city long before he decided he was mistaken. There was an eerie feeling about Neraka. It was the feeling that he was being watched, a chill in the blood that he could not explain.

He and Yuri walked its streets shortly after their arrival. Theros kept turning around, thinking that someone was following him. Whenever he looked back, there was no one there. Yet he felt the hair prickle on the back of his neck.

Yuri was obviously feeling something of the same. He jumped at every sound and refused to let Theros out of his sight.

“I’ve heard that there is a temple of evil here. Do you think it’s true?” Yuri asked in a whisper.

Theros laughed, but his laugh was hollow. “How can that be true? Have you not heard the story of the Seekers? They say that there are no gods. I know them to be wrong, of course, but there is no temple to Sargas in Neraka.”

Yuri was not convinced. “If there were evil gods, they’d be here,” he said softly.

Theros wouldn’t admit it, but he knew how the boy felt. Something dreadful was going on here, though no one spoke of it aloud. He could see it in the blank, cold stares of those they passed, in the voices that hushed the moment anyone came within hearing, in the faces that retreated back into shadows.

The other men seemed to feel the same, all except Uwel and Baron Moorgoth. The baron, in particular, was not in the least disquieted, seemed quite at home in the region. He ordered a halt for the evening at the north end of town.

That night, the baron called an assembly.

“I know you’ve all been wondering where we’re headed. For security purposes, I haven’t told any of you. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but ale has a way of talking, so the saying goes. The army has barracks in Gargath, northwest of here by fifty miles. We will join with them and prepare to move north. The campaigning season is nearly upon us.”

“North? How far north?” someone asked.

“We will move another hundred miles or so north of Gargath. There are some villages in the area that have proved to be rather stubborn about paying us for protecting them from bandits.” Moorgoth laughed, as if at some private joke. “I have reason to believe that we’ll find riches there and that we will have a very good year.”

With the plan laid out for them, the men all drank to the success of the army.

The next morning, they left Neraka and followed the path to Gargath. The next two days they spent in the mountains. By the start of the third day, they had crossed the Busuk Range and moved into the extended valley that lay ahead of them. By the middle of the fourth day, they entered Gargath.

At the first sight of Gargath, the hearts of the soldiers all cheered. It had been a long trip. A troop of cavalry, twenty strong, equipped with long spears and chain mail armor, rode up to meet them.

The troop commander saluted the baron. “Hail, sir. We’re glad to have you back. I see that your mission in Sanction was a success!”

“Yes, indeed. Tell Commander Roshenka to prepare to receive our new officers and men. Have him cook a special meal for tonight. I want to introduce our new warriors to the rest of the army.”

The young officer saluted and galloped off toward the town. The rest of the troop remained with the procession. Half an hour later, they entered the gates of Gargath.

Theros was amazed. The entire town looked as if it were here to do nothing but support and house the army. The streets were crowded with soldiers, along with their women and children, all gathered to cheer their commander and welcome him back home. The main street was lined with stables and barracks. An open plaza stood in the center of the town. Across the plaza was the army’s headquarters.

Moorgoth called his new officers together. “Here, gentlemen, is where you will be staying.”

He pointed to the headquarters building. Uwel Lors took Yuri and the other men aside and showed them their barracks. They marched off at a brisk pace, Uwel shouting commands as they moved. Theros watched Yuri a bit anxiously. The young man was not much of a marcher.

Sure enough, Yuri stumbled, almost knocking down the man in front of him.

Quicker than the eye could follow, Uwel lashed out with a whip he carried on his belt. The tip caught Yuri on the rear end. Yuri screeched, tumbled out of line. Uwel caught him, shoved him back in.

“Watch what you’re doing, fumble-foot!” Uwel commanded.

Yuri choked back tears. Theros could see blood on the young man’s backside. He almost said something, then stopped, remembering the blows he’d received from the minotaurs. He’d survived. A little discipline never hurt anyone.

The drivers moved their wagons through the plaza and exited on the other side. They were heading for the army assembly area, where the wagons would be kept until morning.

Theros and the other officers picked up their belongings and walked across the plaza to the headquarters building. They entered through the front door. Two guardsmen saluted.

A third soldier behind a desk rose to greet them. “Good day, sirs! I am Corporal Vincens, the headquarters troop orderly. If I can be of service, I will be here at this desk. But now I will take you to your rooms.”

The corporal led Theros up two flights of stairs and entered a long hallway. Three doors down, he stopped. Corporal Vincens opened the door. “Captain Ironfeld, this is your room. You are to meet down below at sundown for the officers’ meal. I will take you there.”

Theros entered his new room. The others continued on down the hall.

The room was spacious. A single bed stood by the window. The air was clean and breathable here in Gargath, a pleasant change from Sanction. Theros opened the window to let in some light and air.

The presence of the army definitely had its effects. Groups of soldiers were everywhere. Across from the headquarters, on the other side of the plaza, shops and markets were filled with people. This must be market day.

A knock on the door interrupted him. The sun was setting, and the air was turning cool.

“Time for dinner, sir.”

All of the officers in the army had gathered in the foyer of the building before the sun went down. The new officers were easy to identify in that they were not wearing the maroon uniform that was the hallmark of Moorgoth’s army. All of the other officers wore black trousers tucked into black boots. White shirts with black leather jerkins were covered by maroon surcoats, bearing the crest of the army. They all carried swords at their sides.

Theros shook hands with many of them, exchanging names and looking them over. Just as the sun slid below the level of the far building on the west side of the plaza, Baron Moorgoth strode into the room.

“Gentlemen! I see you have all met our new officers. Excellent! Let us go and eat.”

The crowd of twenty officers followed their commander down the hallway to the dining area. The tables were assembled in a long row, so that men could sit at each side of the tables to eat.

As they entered, Theros noticed that a woman in a fine dress was already sitting at the head table. Once all of the officers had found seats around the table, Moorgoth took his place beside the woman.

“Gentlemen, for those of you who are new here, please meet my wife, Charina Moorgoth.” The lady rose and bowed, and then sat down again.

“Her word is the same as mine. Her wishes can be taken as my orders.”

Moorgoth sat down and clapped twice, loudly. A row of soldiers entered the room, carrying flagons of wine, huge plates of meat, platters of fruit and vegetables, and baskets of bread.

The officer to Theros’s right introduced himself as Wirjen Jamaar, commander of the cavalry squadron. “So, Theros, what do you think of our little army here in Gargath?”

Theros was impressed. “I look forward to setting up shop and getting to work. I’m never happier than when I am banging metal into armor or a weapon.”

The cavalry officer, a tall man with wide shoulders, laughed out loud. He raised his goblet of wine and clanked it against Theros’s. “Good for you, Ironfeld! I am glad to have an officer who likes what he does. Tell me, have you ever worked horse armor?”

Theros was bewildered. “You mean armor for horses, or for horse soldiers?”

“Ah, you make me laugh, Ironfeld. I like that. I am, of course, talking about barding for the horses themselves. Have you ever done work like that?”

Theros shook his head no.

Wirjen scowled, slammed down his glass. “Damnation! I thought that Baron Moorgoth said he had acquired a qualified smith. What the hell good are you going to be to me if you can’t make armor for my horses? It is vital-”

An officer across the table interrupted him. “Ironfeld, pay no attention to Jamaar there. He cares only for his horses. He didn’t happen to mention that we’ve never had barding on our cavalry here, did he?”

Theros wasn’t certain what to say, and so he kept silent. The other officer continued. “I command the first battalion of infantry. We met before in the foyer. I’m Gentry Hawkin. We’re looking forward to a smith who knows how to keep weapons in shape. I don’t need another smith like the last. One of his swords in your hand was as good as having a stick. You knew it was going to break. It was just a matter of when. Come over to my quarters tomorrow and I’ll show you what I mean. We want better for the campaign.”

Conversation came to a sudden stop when the baron stood. “Gentlemen, it is good to have new officers among us. It will take a while for them to get accustomed to the way we do business around here. Still, let us be patient until they have learned our ways. Now, I know you’ve all been wondering where we’re headed.”

The veteran officers murmured their assent. They obviously had not been told where or when the campaign was going to take them this year.

“We will be going north, into the Nordmaar area to remove resistance up there. I understand that there are still pockets of Solamnic Knights, and we all know the treasures that they hold in their castles. We go to challenge them!”

The officers were on their feet, cheering.

Late that night, after much wine and many, many war stories, Theros stumbled up the stairs to his room.

He was, once more, a member of an army, an officer and a smith. He could hardly believe it. And they were going to fight knights. Knights of Solamnia.

Hran would be proud.

Theros couldn’t figure out how to work the fastener on his jerkin. It didn’t matter. He was sound asleep before his wine-muddled brain had time to work on it.