Forgotten Soldiers (10 page)

Quan was a minor god in Turine’s pantheon, one that’s known for his hard line on pleasure. The details of what the followers of Quan believed were long and often contradictory. From my understanding, if something brought you pleasure, it probably displeased Quan.

The priest somehow managed to make that miserable life of restraint appealing, and converted a slew of people to his faith. As a result, the town passed an ordinance that made prostitution illegal. Within a year, Ifrane existed only in people’s memories. Those who converted to Quan grew alienated with him after seeing the lack of benefits from their commitment. People moved away in droves. Denu Creek’s population grew a fifth in size because of the exodus.

A smile formed on my face as I recalled the day that priest tried spreading his philosophy in our town.

The mayor didn’t even have to get involved. A dozen of the town’s more prosperous business owners turned him away half a mile outside the city’s limits. No one wanted to be the next Ifrane.

“Hey, Tyrus,” whispered Dekar.

I blinked. We had been walking through the city, but I was too lost in myself to even realize where we were. I needed to be more careful. That sort of thing could get a stranger in trouble. “Hmm?”

“You notice anything funny about the people on the streets, or am I just imagining things?”

“What do you mean?”

“None of them seem too happy about us being here. I swear that old woman we just passed gave me the Panesh.”

The Panesh was a curse used by the cult of Raza out of Vanak. It’s pretty heavy stuff according to the cult’s followers and therefore used sparingly, only against those they truly hate. Not only do they believe the curse caused anyone who received it the worst kind of harm, but their misfortunes followed them into the next life.

Boils, sores, and loss of bodily functions are rumored to be just a few of the curse’s tamer symptoms.

I looked back over my shoulder at the woman in question. The bent figure had stopped under an eave lit by torchlight. On her toes she probably stood five feet, but the glare she cast made her seem much larger. I gave her a wink just to see what she would do. She raised thumb, middle finger, and pinky on her left hand, then turned and shuffled off.

“Well, you were right about the old woman,” I said to Dekar. “She gave the Panesh to me too.”

“I guess we’ll both be damned together then.”

I chuckled. “It’s good to know I’ll have company.”

“That it is.”

I eyed another passerby, an old man walking with a cane in one hand, a brown package in the other. His look matched that of the old woman. They almost looked related. If his hands hadn’t been full I bet he also would have thrown the Panesh our way. “I think you might be on to something, Dekar.”

“Why though?” he asked. “I’d expect those looks if we were still in Genesha, but not in Turine.”

“You got me.”

“It’s likely they just haven’t seen anyone as ugly as you walk their streets before,” said Ira up ahead, chuckling. “Wondering if they’re experiencing a sudden infestation of ogres.”

Dekar glared daggers at his brother’s back. He was ready to say something when Hamath stopped at the intersection.

“Here we go, fellas.”

“Bout time,” said Ira. “Who ever thought of making their whorehouses so hard to find?”

I came up behind them and peered down the side street. It bustled with life we hadn’t seen down the main road. “Seems the locals know where to find it.”

“Probably hiding all the women for themselves,” mumbled Ira.

Dekar grunted. “Or it could be the two people leading us had no idea where they were going.” He pointed toward a couple of men from the army as they exited one of the establishments and entered another.

Ira opened his mouth to respond but Hamath cuffed him on the arm. “C’mon. The important thing is we’re here now.”

As much of a hurry as those two had seemed to be in, I thought they would have entered the first place they came upon. Nope. They were adamant in choosing the right place to spend their money.

We walked up and down the street twice, admiring the women at each business’ entrance. The women wore low cut gowns with skirts up high, exposing all but the bottom half of their breasts and the top few inches of leg. They called out every seduction imaginable to entice us to spend our coin with them.

We stuck our heads into a few of those places, but Hamath and Ira refused to rush their decision.

Eventually, Hamath and Ira selected a house called The Rose which Ira agreed with. They grabbed two of the five women congregating near the entrance. Ira chose a long-legged woman with short blonde hair and fair skin. Hamath selected the most exotic of the group, a short, brown-skinned woman with charcoal hair. Her features reminded me of Lasha. Though I didn’t ask, I expected that like my wife, she was from one of the kingdoms in the far south.

Hamath and Ira hurried upstairs without looking back. The other three women did their best to persuade me and Dekar to choose one of them for ourselves, but neither of us were interested in doing more than looking. We were both anomalies in that not only did we have wives waiting for us, but we also wanted to remain faithful to them. The girls weren’t buying it and pushed all the harder. We finally slipped by them when some interested locals flashed their coin.

Dekar led the way to the bar, past a couple dozen tables and chairs half-filled with local patrons. We took seats on a couple of stools closest to the stairs. I bought the first round of ale.

Several hours and many drinks later, Dekar and I sat in our same spots, hunched over and nursing our mugs.

“You ever thought of taking one upstairs before?” I asked, nodding toward a redhead sitting off in the corner, one leg propped up on a chair in what I guessed was her way of inviting the next customer. She gave me a wink. I looked away before she did anything more.

“Of course,” said Dekar without ever turning toward the woman. “Who doesn’t?”

“What stops you from doing it?”

He shrugged. “Lots of things.” He took a sip of his ale.

“I’m listening.”

“Well, love for one. Ira might think I’m nuts for having settled down so young, but I love Adwa. Thankfully, since we got married so young she’ll still be able to rear children when I get back. It’ll be nice to start a family.”

I agreed on the point of love. “What else?”

“Guilt is another. Sure Adwa would have no way of knowing if I took that redhead upstairs. Ira wouldn’t tell her. He’s tried to tell me that it’s likely she’ll think I’ve done something like that anyway so why not just do it and have the fun to go along with the grief.” He shrugged. “Maybe she does think that. But that doesn’t make it right. Whether she ever finds out or not doesn’t matter. I’d know I did her wrong and that’s enough of a reason for me not to do it. I know you’re not religious, but I said my vows before Lavi and I aim to keep them.”

A burst of laughter erupted from behind. I glanced over my shoulder to its origin. Nothing of significance. Just a few friends swapping jokes. One of the men caught me looking and scowled. I smiled to let him know I had no issues with him. He looked away, whispered something to one of his friends, then got up and left. Potential confrontation averted, I turned back around and took a sip.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Mostly the same reasons as you. You’re right though, I don’t care about the gods. I don’t care about Lavi, even though I said my vows before her. But I believe in what the vows stood for. I love Lasha too much to hurt her like that.” I paused. “There is something else though.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t want to be like Hamath.”

He started in surprise. “I don’t follow.”

“Ira likes his women, but really Ira’s no different than any other solider. Gods, any other man for that matter. Hamath though . . . he’s almost obsessed.”

Dekar grunted. “I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right. He wasn’t always that way. He barely ever visited a whore during those first couple years.”

“True, but the more he did, the more he had to go back. Half the time I wonder if it’s satisfying an addiction more than seeking enjoyment.”

Dekar grunted. “Well, as long as he’s been up there, that’s quite the addiction.”

“Your brother’s been up there just as long.”

“Yeah, but knowing Ira, the poor fool had his fun for maybe a good five minutes and then fell asleep.”

I laughed and finished the rest of my ale.

Another drink later, head feeling lighter, I looked over to Dekar. “Should we go check on them?”

He eyed his mug. “I’ll go.” He downed the rest of its contents. “You might as well finish what you got.”

I stared at the frothy liquid “I wonder if it’s worth it to. Head’s going to be killing me come morning as it is.”

He stood. “It probably will either way. You never could hold your alcohol. Be careful standing up.” Dekar slapped me on the shoulder and went upstairs.

I made quick work of the remaining ale, slapped money down on the bar, and rose to my feet. The room spun a bit, but a deep breath slowed it considerably.

Then it hit me. At some point, and I couldn’t say when, the background noise had faded to nothing and the room had gone quiet in the sort of way that happens only when something ugly is about to go down. Blasted alcohol.

A sudden fear pushed aside most of my drunkenness.

My left arm grabbed the bar, which I used to steady myself as I spun around, right hand moving to the hilt of my sword. The entire room had cleared out. Six men approached, passing between the empty tables in the common area. Four carried clubs of various shapes and sizes. Two others held old swords.

Not a good sign of things to come.

They slowed when I faced them, coming to a stop four strides away. It would be tricky trying to draw my sword in such a tight space while inebriated. Still, I openly left my hand on the hilt. They didn’t need to know my concerns.

“Is there someone you’re looking for,” I asked, putting as much grit into my voice as I could manage given the ale sloshing around in my gut. I learned a long time ago that a confident man can bluff his way out of a lot of situations he might find himself in. Unfortunately, I never had put that theory to the test when facing six-to-one odds.

“You,” said the man in front. I took him for the leader in part because he spoke first, but also because he carried himself like a man in charge. I guessed him to be a few inches over six feet, which meant he had me by at least three. What he had over me in height he lacked in weight. A decade of marching, digging, chopping, and fighting kept me in better shape than most.

“Me? I don’t know you.” I made an exaggerated effort to scan the faces of the others behind him. “Or your friends.”

“Well, we know you, or at least your type.”

“I doubt that. Because if you did, you’d turn back around and hit the streets.”

The man laughed. “You’re pretty cocky for a drunk.”

“Especially for one without any friends,” said another in the back.

Everyone but me found that funny. I kept wondering what was taking Dekar so long to get downstairs.

“My friends should be back any moment,” I said, hoping that was the case.

A series of loud crashes intermingled with the screams of women came from upstairs. Sounds of wood splintering preceded glass shattering. Three heavy thuds outside followed.

The leader of the six chuckled. “Not anymore. That would be your friends taking a trip out of the third story windows.”

I chose not to respond so as not to betray my emotions. Inwardly, I cursed every god I could think of on the inside. When I finished with that, I began cursing myself for drinking so much.

Even sober, taking down all six would have been a heck of a challenge, but with luck, possible. Drunk? No way.

My jaw clenched. I knew better than to let my guard down so completely. Since I was back in Turine, I had allowed myself to get comfortable because I was back on Turine soil.

The leader started to take a step forward when footsteps pounded the stairs to my right. Dekar came running down, sword drawn. Hamath followed, half-dressed. Ira brought up the rear, still wiping the sleep from his eyes. They all breathed heavily, looking as though they had been in a fight.

Hamath spat. “Told you there were likely more.”

I took advantage of the distraction and drew my sword. Armed and with three friends at my side, I liked the odds much better.

“Count ’em out, Ty.” said Ira. “Idiots woke me up.”

A strategy we often employed in certain situations was numbering each of the individuals standing against us, always starting from the left. A person, usually me, assigned who should take which numbered men. The tactic gave everyone a good starting point on the fly.

“Wait.” I looked at the leader of the six, who appeared less sure of himself. Something the man said earlier nagged at me. I took a chance to see if he’d talk. “You said you knew my type. What does that mean?”

“We heard the war is over.”

“So?”