Warriors [4] Theros Ironfield by Don Perrin Read Free Book Online

forge wondrous swords only warriors from antiquity have seen!
    “First, the task at hand. You begin on the left side, I will start on the right. We roll the tent canvas off the support poles toward the center chimney. Now move!”
    Theros dashed off to his side of the tent and began rolling up the wet sides of the canvas.
    They had to take the tent down, and stow the equipment in the wagon before they could properly prepare for battle. The hearth remained stoked and hot, but the tent was to be removed. If they won the battle, they would set the tent up again. If they lost, they would form part of the army’s baggage train, then retreat with the rear guard. Hran would leave nothing behind for the elves, not even scraps.
    The canvas was heavy, soaked after days of rain. Hran finished his side, rolling it to the edge of the hearth. He began to disconnect the two sides of canvas from one another. Theros struggled. The heavy canvas rolled slowly, getting heavier with each inch.
    “Come on there, lad! Put your back into it!” Hran yelled.
    Between the two of them, the roll moved faster. It thumped up against the side of the hastily built stone hearth before stopping. Together, they went to the right end of the roll, and lifted it over and onto the other half. Both bending, they hoisted the canvas onto the wagon.
    Hran grunted as they shoved the canvas securely into place in the wagon. “Quickly now, collect all of the tools!”
    Theros ran to where the tent had stood moments ago. He stooped to grab the two sets of tongs lying in the grass. As he reached for them, the mournful sounds of the regimental trumpets began to wail.
    “The call to form ranks.” Hran looked worried. “Hurry, lad! Hurry!”
    Now Theros could hear the sound of shrill elven trumpets. The enemy was close at hand.
    They had taken too much time with the canvas. He and Hran were going to be caught in the midst of the battle.

Chapter 7

    The clouds were beginning to break and dots of sunshine began to play across the field separating the minotaurs from their foe, the elves.
    Theros was but one small cog in the minotaurs’ huge war machine. As he labored in the rear, the machine geared up to creak forward.
    The minotaur leader, Commander Klaf, hastened out of his tent, near the back of the assembling troops. He shouted to the standard-bearer and bugler. “What is going on? Why did you sound the battle call?”
    His officers pointed. Klaf looked across the field. Elves were pouring from the woods and beginning to form around their own standards.
    “Great Sargas! Bugler, sound the ‘officers to me’ call.” The bugler brought the great horn up and blasted out the notes. The entire camp had come alive when the call to arms had been sounded. Now it was time to get moving, not stand around like children waiting to be fed.
    Klaf stood with his arms crossed, studying his enemy from across the nearly mile-wide field. As always, the elves were taking their time, forming into pristine companies, all in precise lines and columns. The elf commander had three infantry corps in his command. He placed one corps forward and the other two side-by-side behind the first. Klaf motioned to the standard-bearer.
    “So what do you think, Olik? Where would you say all of their archers are going to be? That’s what we worry about most.”
    The younger officer hesitated for a moment, still studying the enemy formations. “The rear two corps must contain their archers, sir. I cannot believe that the elves are stupid enough to challenge us with their infantry alone. Surely they will use their might in archery to try and bring our numbers down. I don’t see any cavalry, either, Commander. Do we know if they have any?”
    The older minotaur nodded. “They must have cavalry, but I do not see it. Damn them! The elves always play these silly games. Why don’t they just come out and fight?”
    Three minotaurs ran up to the officers, two more racing behind. All were in various