Warriors [4] Theros Ironfield (20 page)

“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.

Chapter 18

The army had been deployed for nearly a month, moving forward in
fits and starts. They would set up camp for several days, send the hunters and scroungers out to replenish supplies, then tear it down, move forward for a week, and then repeat the process. They kept on the move as much as possible, for fear the hated Solamnic Knights—reportedly nearby—would hit them before they were ready.

“I will choose the ground,” Moorgoth was fond of saying. “They will fight me on my own ground.”

It was a ragtag army made up of men and women from all over this part of Ansalon. The backbone was the mercenary force. These men and women were well treated, ate the best, got the best wine, had the best places to pitch their
tents. The rest were conscripts or debtors. People who owed the baron money—and there were many in Sanction—could pay off their debts by serving in his army. They were the ones who came in line for the brunt of Uwel’s discipline. The mercenaries—who knew their own worth—wouldn’t stand for it.

The soldiers were mostly human, with a half-breed or two thrown in for good measure. Moorgoth refused to fight with hobgoblins or ogres, who, he claimed, could not be disciplined.

“We have our standards, sir!” Uwel sniffed.

Theros was relieved, albeit surprised, to notice that the black-robed wizard who had burned down the forge—thereby proving he was handy with fire spells, at least—was not marching among their ranks. He questioned Uwel about the mage.

“If there is one person you cannot discipline, sir, it is a magic-user. Too used to getting their own way, sir, and that’s a fact. Plus, they’re all dyed-in-the-wool cowards. We tried one once, and the baron said never again. The first time an arrow whistled past his head, the man passed out cold. And when I poked him a bit with my knife, sir, to bring him around, he bleated like a stuck hog. Gave away our position to the enemy. I was forced to clunk him over the head with the hilt of my sword to get him to shut up.”

“Did he?” Theros asked.

“Yes, sir. Permanently, sir.” Uwel looked thoughtful. “I hit him a bit too hard, I think, sir.”

The troops did not know that they were heading out to fight Solamnic Knights, the only organized force that stood between Moorgoth’s army and the towns and villages they planned to plunder. The officers knew, but they weren’t passing on anything to the men and women under their command. It was the soldiers’ job to move and fight when ordered, not to be involved in the discussion of where or why they were moving. They were paid, and that was enough for Dargon Moorgoth. If it wasn’t, Uwel Lors, the senior nonofficer, exacted a swift and punishing discipline.

Yuri wasn’t the only person to feel Uwel’s lash. The man was quite skilled with his whip and livened up an otherwise
boring march by snapping it over the heads of the conscripts or licking it at their heels. Any who complained were pulled out of line and dealt with more harshly. Uwel added his fists to his whip for variety. It was sometimes Theros’s job to pick up these unfortunates, who were generally left unconscious by the side of the road until the wagons came along in the rear.

Fear and money—or the hope of it—was what was holding this army together. Theros contrasted that with the minotaurs, who fought for the glory of their country, their clan and their own personal honor. The elation Theros had felt at once more being involved with a fighting unit was rapidly evaporating. He said nothing, however. It wasn’t his place. It wasn’t his army. He would do his job, for which he was being paid—well paid.