Belly of the Beast by Warren Thomas (story books for 5 year olds txt) 📕

replace that stupid bastard that died. Damn, I hate it when they do that.” He shrugged, and continued, “Oh well, that’s life in the army. You get a mage to heal the smith’s shoulder and I’ll have the Swampman’s body hauled off.”

            Tane was helped to his feet by Armin and Joelle, who helped him toward the make-shift clinic beside the parade ground. He got a last glimpse of Uko as he passed, realizing with a tight throat he’d never gotten to know the little man. People had been cruel to him, for no good reason. Tane wished he had a second chance to make amends for not being friendlier to the fellow himself.

Chapter 11

            Searing heat from the supernatural forge burned his flesh. His arms felt leaden and burned with inner fire up to his shoulder, and halfway down his back. But Tane continued to hammer away at the glowing bar of steel. Pounding and pounding, not stopping for anything. He had to finish. Had to keep working, no matter what.

            He felt the sweat burning on his neck, his face. He felt it trickling into his burning eyes. Tane kept hammering, frantic in his efforts. Then he paused, feeling the oppressive presence looming over him.

            A quick examination of the blade showed it near complete. The runes still had to be added. They absolutely must be hammered deep into the blade. A thunderous roar of a voice demanded he stop. It only heightened his anxiety, sending Tane back to his torturous labors.

            Someone screamed, then crashing sounds. He heard feet, but kept on hammering at the length of steel. The pain was all but intolerable, the heat worse, but he had to keep hammering if he was to succeed. Failure was worse than death, for all he loved and cherished would be doomed as well.

            Booming echoed from the near distance, then something hard slapped Tane in the side of the head.

            Tane screamed and sat up, smacking his head on the bunk over him. Rubbing the sore spot, he squinted around and found a boot in his bunk. The bay was lit by a single dim lantern, with the other soldiers all propped up on one elbow. They were looking toward that annoying pounding sound. Turning to the corporals’ door, Tane saw Sergeant Gareth drunkenly beating on the door with a fist.

            “Out, out I say!” he roared. “Get out here before I ram my foot up your lice-ridden asses!”

            “I’m being punished for leaving home,” Tane muttered, shoving the boot back to the floor. A quick look failed to discover who had thrown it. Probably the Tyrian. Everard blamed him for the incident on the parade ground. “I should’ve listened to my mother. She knew I’d only find trouble in Kestsax.”

            As the corporals’ door opened and the sergeant stepped back, Tane started to lower his head and go back to sleep when something caught his eyes. There was a woman with Sergeant Gareth, and it quickly became apparent she was the reason they were all being awakened so rudely. Tane’s stomach twisted when he realized the woman’s wrists were bound tightly behind her back.

            “Say hello to your new comrades,” Sergeant Gareth said, thrusting her into the squad bay.

            “Tschüss,” she said acidly, emerald eyes burning in impotent rage.

            “Tschüss!” the big Tyrian in Disa’s squad shouted in return. “I am Everard Boarsbane!”

            “Who cares,” she snarled.

            The newcomer’s accent was more subtle than Everard’s, but distinctively Tyrian nonetheless. A Tyrian warrior by the look of her, too.

            Everyone gasped as the lantern was turned up for all to see. Tane had never seen such stunning beauty before. She was tall, with the shiniest black hair he’d ever seen flowing down to her narrow waist and flaring hips. Her eyes were emerald green, and her lips as scarlet as the leather breeches she wore stuffed into black thigh boots.

            Now I know what a Goddess looks like, was all Tane could think of.

            “Be wary, boys, she’s a bloody priestess of Ashtar!” Sergeant Gareth declared with drunken bluster, reaching down into her bosom to lift up a silvery pendant of Ashtar, Goddess of War and Adventure.

            How appropriate, Tane thought, recalling the raven-maned, green-eyed beauty of Ashtar.

            She kicked out at the sergeant, forcing him to jump back and release the pendant. He glared at her, causing Tane to tense. Gareth wasn’t the type man Tane thought would take that from anyone, especially not from a raw recruit.

            “Spirited, isn’t she?” Gareth said, chuckling. “I reckon she knows more about swordplay than all of us, combined. She cleaned out a tavern earlier tonight, and the City Guard was so impressed with her they turned her over to the army for induction instead of hauling her off to jail.”

            Tane studied her with more interest. She was fully as tall as the sergeant. Though shapely, he saw only firm muscles and no excess fat anywhere. Of course, being as lean and strong as the woman appeared didn’t guarantee she could fight.

            Her eyes met his, holding them for a moment.

            In that instant he felt a shock wave shoot through him. And knew a moment of fear. Without a doubt in his mind, Tane knew she was a woman who had killed, and killed often. The sergeant was right, he felt she was the most dangerous person in that room.

            Sergeant Gareth will come to regret manhandling her, Tane thought, and felt a moment of pity for the drunken sergeant. If she really is a priestess of Ashtar, then the Goddess of War will surely damn his soul for all eternity for treating Her priestess so crudely.

            And Ashtar wasn’t one to forget slights, and neither were Her priests and priestesses.

            Ashtar’s priesthood was trained to expertly use every weapon known. Somehow, that thought cheered Tane enough to lay his head down and go back to sleep.

            But Tane’s rest was short lived, for