The Flames of Thotus: Dreams

Chapter 4. Where Have You Gone?

The days flew by and Termus found himself more and more worried. What was war actually like? Books can explain the strategy and everyone knew the tales and songs that were written about the heroes of war, but what could be said about the battlefield? Surely it couldn't be all glory and triumph.

He hoisted up his pack onto the wagon, his brother nowhere to be seen. He wore just his underclothes as he was told. Apparently, the journey to Nagire would be long indeed. Three weeks if he remembered correctly. Three weeks of sitting in a wagon, eating dried meat chunks and twiddling his thumbs. He didn't want to be wearing his bulky armor and sweating a river the whole time. He sighed out loud as he turned around and scanned the various wagons, looking for his brother.

Crowds of soldiers were packing their belongings and gear onto their wagon, the horses being fed one last meal before they headed out. Gnove had to be here somewhere...and there he was. Talking with a group of infantry men, all sitting in their basic brown clothes and leather armor, loosely sewn together with thin string. Gnove was wearing his officer garments, but sat on the end of an open wagon, laughing with the rest of them. Termus badly wanted to let him be but he knew there was more preparing to be done. He picked up the remaining pieces of his armor and threw it thoughtlessly into the wagon before walking across the dirt street.

"Gnove," he called. "You need to get the rest of your stuff together."

Gnove hardly noticed him as he picked up a few dice and rolled them. The men laughed and cheered, and Gnove threw his hands up in the air, yelling.

"Third time's the win," he said, nudging the man next to him.

Before Termus could reach the other side of the street, the patter of horse hooves rumbled closer and almost knocked him over. The great white beast stopped, the man sitting atop it grimacing. "Get back to your wagon, boy. Lest you get trampled."

He recognized that voice. It was Old Man Cram. What was he doing here?

Cram paced his horse back and forth along the street, watching over everyone as they packed up. "Gather 'round, you sorry sons of bitches," he yelled.

The hum of chatter from everyone quieted and as a crowd began forming around the horse. "You lot will be marching off in thirty minutes, so hurry your arses up. It's a long march through the mountains and there's only one road so best be on the lookout for the Mountain Tribes. All of you need to stay with the wagons. The Tribes of the Banshee Mountains would love to pick you off, one by one. Lure you into the rocks and kill ya for your steel."

Gnove had stood up and started walking over to the wagon again, his eyes fixated on Cram.

"They don't take too kindly to us up north. So watch your arses. We have three weeks to march to Nagire and not a second longer. You lot better be ready for anything. Commander Maisie will be taking charge from now on and if I get a word that any of you disobeyed her orders, your body will be tossed from the highest lookout at headquarters. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," the soldiers said.

__________

Termus helped Gnove with the rest of his bags and hoisted him up onto the wagon. It was rustic, creaky and old but it had an antique looked that he almost admired, its dark brown tarp covered it from rain as well. Not all of the soldiers around him were as lucky. He surely didn't feel safe riding on it, but it was the best he was going to get, he guessed.

Gnove reached his hand out to help him up on the wagon. "You'd think for us being officers and all that we'd get a nice wagon. Something...I don't know...smoother? This damn wood is going to cut me a million times before we reach the city."