“He’d been gutshot. The musketball had ripped his middle right open. He rolled back and forth – screaming, screaming – as the blood welled up, covering his hands, rushing out of him to flood the fallen leaves in the dirt. His boots twitched, his entire form shook, shuddered, and then he choked, for the blood filled his throat, and his red-washed fingers clawed at his neck.”

One of the earliest moments ofForge establishes the sheer horror of the violence inherent in war. Through the mere act of interference—throwing a stone to protect a boy he doesn’t even know—Curzon helps perpetuate the violent fate suffered by the British soldier. The ensuing description confronts both the characters and the reader with the brutality of the Revolutionary War. 

“My former master, Bellingham, had owned several sailing ships before the war. The tables in the library were often covered by maps and charts when his captains called. Once, a compass such as this had been used to keep the papers from flying on the sharp breeze that came from the harbor. Bellingham had been amused by my curiosity and showed me how the device worked. I considered it a magical thing, for I was still a child then.” 

Upon finding the redcoat’s compass, Curzon reflects upon a time in his childhood when compasses seemed magical. These tiny devices that would provide him a sense of direction that would tell him where to go. But now, as he’s grown older, and the freedom to explore has been more and more curtailed, he’s grown more cynical and less able to believe in the magic of things. He is, essentially, directionless.

“The aimless needle inside me spun and spun again. My heart beat to the sounds of the approaching drums. I liked the smell of gunpowder. I was not afraid to fight.” 

Curzon refers back to the compass as a metaphor, establishing it as an image for his own sense of purpose. Prior to this moment, we can infer that Curzon has spent the majority of his freedom running from the threats of his past, and those who would place him back in bondage. But with this description, we see that he is compelled forward by an inner compass – a sense of purpose or direction beyond running.