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

I am a trained swordsmith,” Tane said. He spoke quickly, afraid he would be cut off too soon. “I came to serve the king in the Royal Smithy. But, I fear, I was accosted and forced to join the army. Now, mind you, I’m not trying to get out of the army. I did swear to serve the king in the army, after all. But I thought it might be to the army’s best interests if I took up the duties in which I can best serve it, as a swordsmith.”

            “Nice speech, recruit,” Lieutenant Artair said, grinning. “And if you had told someone sooner, like before you were sworn in, then someone would probably be showing you your new forge. But we have you now, and we aren’t giving any of you up without a fight.”

            “I want the kid,” the sergeant missing her hand said, eyeing Tane speculatively. Tane felt his throat tighten. “I’ll give up two of mine to Sergeant Gareth for him.”

            The one-eyed sergeant laughed harshly. Tane noted that his one remaining upper front tooth was broken and black. By far, he looked to be the most unsavory of the lot.

            “Not if you gave up a tit, Marji! The kid’s got spunk and bulk, and I’m keeping him,” Sergeant Gareth laughed.

            Tane almost groaned in misery to learn he was assigned to Sergeant Gareth. The man was the only sergeant more frightening looking than Sergeant Marji. He was tall as Tane, with greasy brown hair that hung to his shoulders, a harsh face made worse by his eye-patch and single black tooth, and a burly, scar-covered body. Gareth was clean shaven like the rest of the soldiers, with a bushy grey-streaked mustache. At the moment, he and the other sergeants wore only the blue trousers and green tunic of army regulars.

            Tane listened quietly as the lieutenant divided up the remaining recruits. Once he left, the sergeants spent another twenty minutes haggling and trading recruits among themselves. Sergeant Gareth outright bought the elf’s service from rangy Sergeant Cade, for one recruit and twenty crowns copper.

            Suddenly, Sergeant Gareth laughed and turned away from his peers. He looked Tane and the elf over with relish, then motioned for them to follow him. Tane was surprised to find only himself and Quinn following Gareth, for the other sergeants each had five to eight recruits.

            They were taken to a dark pile next to the barracks, where a corporal checked their tokens and produced their packs and gear, except for their weapons which were already locked up in the arms room. Strangely, the elf grasped his ruck and quickly riffled through it as they walked away. The sergeant then led them straight into the dark, quiet barracks and up a rickety stairway to the third floor.

            Each of the three floors were laid out alike. The floors were open bays divided by four sets of facing rooms evenly spaced down their length. One platoon was billeted on each floor, with the sergeants having rooms to themselves, and each section’s two corporals sharing a room across from their section sergeant. The open bays between the rooms were filled with sturdy bunks.

            “We’re 3rd Section of 3rd Platoon, boys,” Sergeant Gareth said as he led them through rows of bunks filled with sleeping men and women. “I’m senior Section Sergeant in the platoon. Sergeant Knut is Platoon Sergeant, and the biggest, meanest, ugliest Thanir warrior you’ve ever seen, too. Don’t rile him, or me for that matter.

            “Now, you two are part of Corporal Pendar’s squad under me,” he continued. “This company didn’t exist before yesterday, so we’re all just forming up and getting to know each other.”

            “Uh, Sergeant Gareth,” Tane said. “I’m not entirely following you. I’m not a warrior, much less a trained soldier, so I don’t really understand what we do. The captain said we were part of his auxiliary company of foot. Are we spearmen, or swordsmen, or what?”

            “Ha. Good question, kid,” he said. “Auxiliary foot is a fancy way of saying we’re sword fodder. Untrained soldiers for the real soldiers on the other side to hack up for a bit of sport.”

            “And he’s not joking,” the elf said.

            Nearing the far end of the second floor, Gareth said, “This room on the right is mine. The one across is where my corporals stay.”

            The door into the corporals’ room was open, showing it to be empty. He scowled into the dark room a moment, then swept an all inclusive hand at the small bay before them. It was dark, with only a single oil lamp on the wall, turned down low, lighting the area. Most of the ten bunks were occupied with huddled forms under blankets.

            “This is 3rd Section’s territory, and your new home. The left side of the bay is your squad’s responsibility. So, find a bunk along the left wall and call it a night, boys. We’ll be getting you up real early in the morning.”

Chapter 7

            Dakar glowered at the vast temple complex. Bad enough it wasn’t one of the Old Ones’ pyramid-temples, but this one was laid out in a unique floor plan even for the Arisen Gods. There was a great wrought iron fence surrounding the complex, a sacred circle to protect the God’s “house.” Within, amid lush gardens, sat an imposing structure of whitewashed granite, laid out in the shape of Kamain’s Hammer. The handle was the nave, with the hammerhead the sanctuary holding the High Altar.

            “All is ready, Divine Master,” High Priest Mogens said solemnly.

            Dakar scowled at him. He knew it wasn’t Mogens fault that the temple had been booby-trapped, both magically and mundanely. It wasn’t his fault that twenty-seven of Dakar’s priests and priestesses had perished due to those cunningly conceived and concealed traps. It wasn’t anyone’s fault it took so long to desecrate Kamain’s temple, then consecrated it to Dakar. All the blame lay with the temple’s