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

stages of dress, none fully ready for battle.
    The tallest, Bak, spoke first. “Are they forming to attack now? Great Lords of the Abyss! We aren’t ready!”
    Klaf turned to the huge warrior. “Set the example, damn you! I expect your troops to be formed before the enemy is ready. Now go!
Go!
”
    The officers turned and ran back to their tent lines, all bellowing orders to their subordinates.
    Olik planted the army standard in the ground. It was a twelve-foot pole with a crosspiece attached near the top. An orange and red banner hung down from the crosspiece, showing a black raven with glowing wing tips. The very top of the pole was adorned with a gold spearhead, andtwo gold tassels hung down. The banner was normally cased in a leather sock, but when the horns of battle rang out, clear as the morning sun, Olik decided it was time for the banner to be unfurled. The banner would show the enemy that they were fighting against a mighty army.
    Olik had been chosen specially as the standard-bearer for the Third Army because he was a foot taller than any other minotaur in the army. His job was to keep the standard flying at all costs. To let it fall would be a disgrace for the army. To let it be captured would be the worst of all possible fates, worse even than defeat. Olik would fight to the death to defend the standard.
    The elves had begun to straighten their lines and close together for the march across the field. The minotaur officers were shouting at their warriors to form into regiments and straighten their own lines. Across the field, a fanfare of trumpets sounded, and with a great shudder, the three corps of elves began to push forward.
    Minotaurs were still coming out of tents, still pulling on pieces of armor, still fumbling for weapons, still tightening straps. Officers and junior leaders were doing everything in their power to get their troops in place.
    One minotaur was completely drunk. An officer raced up behind him and bashed him on the back of the head in an attempt to sober him up. The soused minotaur fell facedown into the grass. His officer left him for dead and went back to his unit.
    Olik, still watching the advance of the elven army, shook his head and looked over to Klaf. “We have to slow their advance, sir, to allow our troops enough time to get into formation. We don’t even have our skirmish line out yet!”
    Klaf shook his head. “We can’t engage them with archery. My archers aren’t in place. Such an attack might even cause them to quicken the pace. What if we …” He hesitated, looked over at his standard-bearer and friend.
    “What, sir?”
    “What if we offered to parley?” Klaf said.
    Olik was shocked. “You can’t be serious, sir? Parley … with elves?” He almost spat the word.
    “It will slow them down,” the commander noted.
    “True.…” Olik was not yet convinced.
    Klaf had made up his mind. “Quick, go back to the tent line and grab some tent canvas and a spear. You and I, along with several warriors, will go forward under a flag of truce. They will honor that. They have to honor that!”
    Shaking his head, Olik ran off at a trot. A few moments later, he emerged from a tent with a spear and a ripped section of white cloth. He ran back to the command group.
    Olik looked miserable. “Do you really mean to go through with this, sir?”
    Klaf turned his attention away from the enemy. He glanced back to see his troops rushing about in confusion.
    “If the elves reach us now, they’ll cut us to pieces. Do you know of a better way to stop them?”
    Olik said nothing.
    “Right, come with me.” Klaf marched forward, through his assembling troops. As he walked past his warriors, he yelled out to some of them, calling them by name, attempting to boost morale.
    “Ready to kill some elves today, Rajan?
    “Good day for a fight, eh, Bratag?
    “Muddy enough for you, you giant lug, Mosex?”
    The soldiers waved and shouted. Klaf and his small group moved forward through his