Yuri was looking backward, stumbling as he went. “We should have buried them, at least,” he said in a choked voice.
“No time,” Theros growled.
“I hate this army!” said Yuri suddenly, softly. “I hate the baron. I hope they’re all slaughtered!”
“Stupid hope, boy,” Theros said, glaring at him. “You’ve just wished your own death.”
“I wouldn’t mind much now,” said Yuri. “I don’t feel fit to live.”
Theros said nothing more. He could almost feel the hot, angry breath of Sargas down his back. No minotaur alive would have ever committed such a dishonorable, cowardly act. At that moment, Theros was ashamed of being human.
They marched on.
* * * * *
The baron signaled another halt. They were less than two miles from their destination. It was just past noon sun. If all was going according to plan, the cavalry attack on the village was moving forward at this very moment.
“How do you think they’re doing, sir?” asked Berenek, the standard-bearer. “The cavalry. I hope they’re doing well. My brother is with them.”
Moorgoth slapped the tall man across the back. “I had forgotten that Wirjen Jamaar was your older brother. He’s my best cavalry officer. He will do just fine. Is your family name Jamaar as well?”
“No, sir. My family name is Ibind. Wirjen and I are only half brothers. His father died in a goblin ambush before I was born. My mother remarried.”
They were interrupted by a messenger running back from the front lines. It took several moments for the man to catch his breath. “Sir, I am to show you where to meet Sergeant Jogoth. We’ve got the area all scouted out. You can see the town from where we are.”
The baron was very interested. “And how’s the cavalry attack going? Could you see it?”
“It looks as if the cavalry has broken into the town. We could hear fighting in the town-probably the town guard-but we couldn’t see anything.”
“No sign of the knights?”
“No, sir.”
“Good.”
Moorgoth ordered the men to return to a run. They moved more slowly than when they had first started out. They were all tired. Still, the faster they deployed, the more time they would have to rest, and the more fit they would be when they hit the enemy.
The baron picked up the pace. “Come on, you bastards, hurry up!” he yelled back over his shoulder.
He didn’t bother to look back to know that everyone was keeping pace with him. They would follow him at a sprint, if they had to. All knew that to disobey would bring down the wrath of Uwel Lors.
The scout ran beside the baron. After the first mile, the ground began to slope. A large hill stood to the left. They headed down to the wooded bottom of the river basin.
The soldier pointed. “That forest there, sir. That’s where we enter. On the other side, about five hundred yards across, you can see the town. There’s nobody out here. They’re all in the town fighting, I suppose. We scoured the area pretty thoroughly but we found no traces of anyone. They’re either not here or they’re really good at hiding.”
They slowed to a jog, and finally to a march when they entered the forest. Leaving the road, they moved through the trees. As the baron entered the woods, another scout came out from behind a tree.
“Sir! Over here, sir.” The sergeant motioned for the baron to join him. The first scout continued to lead the rest of the force through the forest.
The sergeant held out a map, drawn with charcoal on a piece of smooth tree bark. “Here’s the layout, sir. Tell me if you want anything changed.”
The crudely and hastily sketched map showed the town and the edge of the tree line. The road entered the town about a thousand yards past its exit from the trees. The first and second brigades of infantry were to move into line in the woods, with the archers deployed forward, at the edge of the trees. The command group was shown in the middle.
“Yes, this is fine, Sergeant. When you’ve finished moving the troops into position, assemble your men, and set up near the road. When our cavalry comes through, stop them and have them form on the other side of the forest, near the road. I want them ready to dash back up that road in a hurry. Send Captain Jamaar to me. Carry on, Sergeant.”
The troops were still moving through the woods and into position. Everyone was quiet, too tired to talk. The last run had taken its toll. Now, at least, they had time to catch their breath. Moorgoth returned their salutes as the soldiers moved past him.
Finally, the rear guard advanced. They were the last company of the second brigade. The company commander saluted as he came up to the baron.
“Sir, we’re the last of them. We left sixty-one soldiers behind on the road today. Most dropped from exhaustion. They should be picked up by the wagons. We didn’t see nobody followin’ us, sir.”
Sixty-one people hadn’t been able to take the killing pace, had fallen out of ranks. Still, that wasn’t bad for an infantry force this size. Not bad at all. Any comparably sized army would have lost three times that number, or more. Nevertheless, Moorgoth would ensure that those sixty-one people were flogged and lost pay. He wasn’t paying for soldiers who couldn’t keep up.
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.”