Warriors [4] Theros Ironfield (23 page)

The baron followed the last company through the woods, and turned off to find his command group. They would be facing the town.

The fluttering red flag indicated his tent.

The baron, spotting it, was highly displeased.

“Berenek, get that flag under wraps. I don’t want someone from that town seeing a red flag in these woods. Don’t bring it out again until I order a move. Now, pass the word down the lines, right and left. I want to see senior officers here in ten minutes.”

The waiting game was on. The trap was set. Would the Solamnics take the bait?

Chapter 20

The wagon train moved forward slowly. With the wagons as heavily
loaded as they were, speed was impossible. Theros and Belhesser walked along in front of the lead wagon.

The road wound through a series of hills and forests. The going was difficult. The road was sometimes hard-packed and smooth, other times rutted and bumpy. Sometimes it was wide, sometimes so narrow that tree branches scraped the sides of the wagons.

The baggage train rolled to the site Moorgoth had chosen. The place was nearly a mile from the battle site, behind a series of hills that separated the army’s position from their own.

“Belhesser, any word of our spy?” Theros asked quietly.

“No, nothing. I think our problem will go away if Moorgoth wins this next fight. If there is a spy, whoever it is will have failed in his task and will want nothing more than to get the Abyss out of here. And nothing cheers the baron like a victory. He’ll forgive and forget. Watch your back if we lose, though.”

Theros agreed. He could well imagine that the baron would be in a foul mood if his army had to skulk back to Sanction with its tail between its legs. He looked behind to see the progress of the column. Two of his soldiers walked together, talking, followed by the third, driving the wagon with the smithy’s equipment and supplies. Yuri was nowhere in sight.

“Where in Sargas’s name has he gone?” Theros muttered.

He hung back and let the wagons containing his equipment roll past him. No sign of Yuri. Theros joined the commissary group, which was far larger than Theros’s little band of metal workers.

Searching among the workers, Theros found the woman who was in charge of making the bread.

“Have you seen Yuri, my apprentice?”

The woman wore a white cotton man’s shirt, the same as issued to the soldiers, tucked into a long buff skirt. Below that, high-laced black boots. Her head was covered with a handkerchief, to keep the dust out of her hair and face. She was in her forties and was, by her weather-beaten face, an old campaigner. She looked at Theros and laughed.

“Of course, he’s here! You know that.”

Theros scowled. “No, I don’t know that. Why should I? Does he come back here often?”

“Morgion bless us, yes! You can’t tell me you don’t notice that! He’s back here every time we’re on the march. He even comes over when he’s done working in the smithy for you for the day. But then, it’s only natural, ain’t it, Master Smith?” The woman winked and leered. “Young blood is hot blood, they say.”

Reaching out her hand, she playfully tickled Theros on his massive chest. “But there’s a lot to be said for experience, my man. Come by my tent tonight.…”

Theros was growing embarrassed and angry. He could see some of the men, standing around, laughing and nudging each other.

“Where is he?” Theros demanded, ignoring the woman’s offer.

“He’s back behind the second wagon. He’ll be with Telera, my assistant.”

Theros turned and hurried back past the wagons to investigate.

Just as the woman had described, Yuri was walking with a young woman. She wore the same clothes as the first woman. Her long blond hair was braided and put up to keep out the dust and sweat. She probably was not more than eighteen. But now that Theros took a good look at her, he could see that she was different from most of the women who either fought in this army or served it.

Her fair skin was reddened from the sun, as if she were not accustomed to being outdoors much. There was an air of delicacy and daintiness about her that made the shabby clothes she wore seem much more attractive than they really were. No wonder Yuri was drawn to her.

Theros stood directly in front of the two, blocking their path. At the sight of him, the young woman blanched and shied like a skittish colt. Yuri went bright red and opened his mouth to speak.

Before either could say anything, Theros pounced on Yuri and grabbed him by the arm.

“Damn you! What in Sargas’s name do you think you’re doing? Your place is up with our wagon, not back here flirting with the women.”

Yuri protested. “But, sir! I haven’t done anything wrong! I only—”

Theros couldn’t believe it. The boy honestly had no idea how much danger he was in. He smacked Yuri hard on the back of his head, making him stumble.

“Shut up and get back there, or I’ll whip you for insubordination!”

Yuri looked over quickly at Telera. She was pale and frightened.

“Go!” she mouthed.

Yuri looked back to Theros, and then ran forward at a sprint.

Theros glanced over at the woman. She cringed away from him. He saw in her eyes the same fear that he had seen in soldiers’ eyes when they were about to be whipped or beaten.

“Don’t beat Yuri, sir!” she begged, raising her hands in a pleading gesture. “It was my fault. You”—she swallowed, then said bravely—“you can take your anger out on me, if you want, sir.”

Theros stared. He couldn’t believe it. This young woman actually thought he was capable of beating her!

“Great Sargas! Where is my honor?” Theros asked himself. “I’m turning into one of those bastards who uses threats and whips to maintain a show of respect that is, in reality, no respect at all. It’s just fear. This is no way to lead men.”

Theros found he was still staring at the woman. She was pretty, but now that he regarded her closely, she looked worn and much too thin. Moorgoth worked everyone hard, men and women both. And only the soldiers were guaranteed a good meal. When the supplies ran low, those who did the cooking, not the fighting, were the first to go hungry. Her life could not be an easy one. And now she looked almost sick with terror.

A wagon rolling past halted, its driver stopping to watch the interesting action on the roadside.

Theros regained his composure and yelled back to the driver. “What are you stopping for? Nobody ordered a halt!”

He turned on his heel and walked up past the commissary wagons to the front of the line. He couldn’t get the woman’s fearful eyes out of his mind. He saw them, and he saw the bodies of the women in the ditch. He remembered Yuri’s words.

I don’t feel fit to live
.

Theros walked along alone, immersed in thought. He didn’t realize he’d reached his own wagons, until Belhesser yelled back at him, breaking his reverie.

“What is it, Belhesser?”

Belhesser held out his map. “Would you say that hill over there was this hill here?” He indicated a spot on the map just beyond where they were to set up camp.

Theros took the map and studied it for a moment. He found the road on the map, and looked up to compare it to the terrain before him.

“Yes, that’s the spot all right.”

The wagons continued moving down the road. Theros walked back to his wagons. Yuri walked alongside, his head down. Theros tried to forget that he had struck Yuri, decided to pretend that the incident never happened. Again, he said to himself that it was for the young man’s good.

If the spy was among the commissary people, then anyone from Theros’s section caught talking to anyone in Cheldon’s section would be immediately suspect.

He even tried explaining this to Yuri, who only stared at Theros incredulously, managing to look as dumb as a tent post.

“Spy?” Yuri repeated stupidly. “What do you mean?”

At length, Theros gave up.

“Forget it. Just obey me on this one. I don’t ever want to see you with that young woman again. For her sake, as well as yours. Now, run ahead and find me a good site for the smithy. We’re to set up once we get the word.” Theros turned to one of the soldiers. “Erela, go back and tell the sergeant of the commissary that the place there, in front of that hill”—he pointed—“is where we set up camp.”

The two set off at a run.

The sun was at the hilltop ahead of them by the time they had the wagons into position. Yuri had removed the digging implements from the smith’s wagon, and he and the soldiers dug a pit for the forge. Two of the soldiers were sent to find enough wood to last them for the next few days. Theros went off to talk with Belhesser.

“Listen, do you know anything about a woman in the commissary by the name of Telera?”

Belhesser leered. “So, you’ve got your eye—?”

“No, not at all.” Theros snorted. “I just need to know something about her.”

Belhesser gave him a puzzled look. “I know that she works as an assistant for Hercjal in bread-making. She joined us in Sanction. Said she was orphaned. Fever took her folks. That’s all I know. Why do you ask?”

Theros passed it off with an easy shrug. “I thought I knew her from the Belching Fury. I guess I was mistaken. It’s not important.”

Belhesser winked. “You have got your eye on her. You sly dog. Well, good luck to you. Not that there’ll be much time for slap and tickle in the next day or two. Are your wagons in position? Don’t set up your forge until I order it. If we’re losing, I want to be able to get out of here before those accursed knights catch us.”

Theros returned to his smithy and found the forge pit had been built to his liking. The earth in the area was hard and rocky. The men had dug down with shovels and picks, forming a bowl in the center of the spot where Theros had indicated he wanted the smithy. The pit was lined with larger stones that they had found or dug up, forming a good fire reflector.

The soldiers were cutting up the dead wood that they had hauled in and were stacking it beside the pit, ready to start the fire when needed. Yuri was over in the wagon, checking to make sure that none of the tools had shifted or been damaged. Theros left him alone to do his job. He had harassed him enough for one day.

Theros walked up the hill a short distance and sat down, looking over the site. The commissary section was set up at the edge of the hill, forming the close side of the square. The quartermaster’s stores were a couple of hundred feet past the commissary, forming the far side of the square. The smithy was going to be on the left side as Theros looked down from the hill. The right side was open, and beyond it was where the infantrymen would set up tent lines.

As the sun sank lower behind the hill and it grew too dark to see, Theros’s thoughts turned inward.

What is going on inside of me? I am an honorable man. I should never have agreed to take this job, no matter how much money it paid. Moorgoth has men whipped almost
to death if they commit the smallest infraction. He murdered those poor women, when it would have been just as easy to take them prisoner. He destroyed my forge, and instead of killing him, as any minotaur would have done, I came along with him! I took his blood money!

Admit it, Theros, he thought ruefully, you wanted to be back with a fighting unit. You wanted the thrill of battle, the glory of the kill. Glory! He blew air through his nose. We’re nothing more than uniformed, organized bandits.

Theros shook his head, stared down at the ground. And how do I explain today? How do I explain the way I treated Yuri? I can’t. And this isn’t the first time. He was right, that day he yelled at me. I treat him like a slave. And I know how it feels, to be treated like a slave.

Sargas take me! What do I do? I have accepted Moorgoth’s money. We have a contract. It would be dishonorable to leave his army. Dangerous, too, Theros thought. Undoubtedly, he would think
I
was the spy. Yet I see no honor in staying. What do I do?

Theros raised his eyes to the heavens. “Sargas, give me a sign. Give me direction. That’s all I ask. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Theros watched and waited, thinking that he might see the gigantic black bird with the fiery wings that had come to him before, No sign came, but perhaps now was not the time.