from Tanus, the corporal of their modrig, that his name was Volnos and he was an aging veteran of many campaigns.
Fil marched in line next to Calden, his friend and fellow knight apprentice. There were no other apprentices in their modrig or even their akron. They had been spread out to different units. It was organized that way for a reason, forcing the young men to interact with different people and establishing relationships with soldiers from various backgrounds.
Each of the soldiers wore a hardened leather breastplate lined with circles of steel over a shirt of heavy chain mail. Their forearms, thighs and shins were protected by leather reinforced with steel plates. Each footman soldier was issued a short infantry sword, stabbing spear, and a steel shield, all designed for formation fighting.
Fil gripped his spear with anxiety, wondering if the rest of the men felt the way he did, eager, yet frightened at the same time. He scanned the men around him and saw no hesitation in them. They were mostly middle aged veterans who had fought and survived many battles, which was why his akron was a front line unit. Calden, marching next to him, gave a sidelong glance at Fil.
“I can’t believe we're going to war,” Calden muttered to Fil. “Are you nervous?”
“I am,” replied Fil. “But this is what I want. I want to avenge my family.”
“You think that Moredin’s army is led by the same evil forces that destroyed your town?”
“I don’t know, but Tanus told us that the king thinks this army is being backed by Banrith Castle. And if that is so, then they are somehow linked to the Banthra that attacked my village. I will get my revenge, Calden,” Fil said fiercely. He gripped his spear so tightly that his thick knuckles turned white.
“I hope you do, my friend, and I will be right beside you.”
Fil smiled at Calden, taking comfort in his friend’s presence. Fil’s mind wandered to Jonas, and wondered how he was faring. He missed him dearly, but he realized that their paths were now different, and that Jonas’s calling would take him to different places. It saddened Fil that he might not see his friend again. What if he died in this battle? What if Jonas was already dead? It was a frightening thought, but certainly a possibility considering the enemies that were hunting him.
When Fil had heard that cavaliers were being killed all throughout Kraawn he immediately feared for his friend. He even went to Shyann’s temple in town to get some guidance. The priests couldn’t really help him. All they said was the normal religious rhetoric. That it would be Shyann’s will whether he lived or died, that type of thing. Fil couldn’t understand that belief system and that was why he had such little faith in the gods. Was it just a game to them? What right did they have to decide someone’s fate? Who were they to decide who lived and died? And did they really have that power anyway? Fil did not deny their existence, just whether or not the gods lived up to most people’s expectations. Fil didn’t think so. He often wondered whether or not they deserved his allegiance at all.
The sound of a galloping horse brought Fil out of his thoughts. He looked over his shoulder and saw a heavy warhorse gallop by. The dust from the road billowed around them as the warrior quickly rode down the column.
It was Tanus. Fil recognized his blue billowing cape and his unique silver helm. Fil had learned that years ago Tanus had taken a small group of warriors to a tiny farming settlement on the outskirts of their lands, almost to the edge of the Tundrens. The village had been raided by a small pack of boargs and the leader of Tanus’s akron had sent him there when he was a young officer. The story went that his entire pandar, which was fifty men, had been slain, except for him, and that he had killed the last of the boargs by himself, his men dead around him. Men tell the tale as if he had been surrounded by snarling boargs, and in berserker frenzy, Tanus had killed them all. No one really knew for sure what happened as he never spoke about it.
Tanus then cut the horns from the pack leader and had the king’s blacksmith fashion a helm from them so he would never forget the men that died. The helm was crafted