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Authors: Joshua P. Simon

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BOOK: Forgotten Soldiers
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Two steps later, I barreled into her with my shield, knocking her to the ground. I continued pushing inside, Ava right on my heels. Neither of us had time to finish off the woman with a Master Sorcerer nearby. I trusted Hamath to take care of her.

The Master Sorcerer stood in white robes at the back of the tent over a simple table. There was no sign of the other lesser sorcerer. On the table rested a plain wooden box. In that moment, I cared about nothing else. His wide-eyed expression turned to anger. Our ability to get this far caught him off guard. His hands glowed orange. An acidic smell crept into my nose.

I cursed and charged, hoping the tactic might buy Ava the time she needed to take him down.

Bright fire shot across the room. I ducked behind my shield—its etchings softening the attack. Despite it and my own resistance, the force of the blast still catapulted me backward.

I flew across the room and crashed into a table. Its legs shattered beneath my weight. I banged my head on something hard.

The tent spun. I fought to stand, but could not, vomiting instead. I turned my head toward the Master Sorcerer, blinking against the pain of what was likely a concussion. I grabbed something. A cup, I think, and threw it with what little strength I could muster. It missed him by at least six feet. It didn’t matter. It was enough to distract him half a second longer.

He realized his error and wheeled on Ava. He was too late.

Thankfully, I managed to stay conscious as my little sister engulfed the whoreson in shadow. The sound of his agony was music to my pounding ears.

* * *

We started our mission with a unit of twelve men. We charged our last target with eleven. When the dust settled we were down to six.

Besides the concussion I earned, the mage also knocked my left shoulder out of socket and further bruised my ribs I had injured earlier. Hamath lost a finger. Ira half an ear. Dekar suffered a broken leg and nose. Of the six of us who survived, none of us had escaped injury.

But we had done it.

Ava had killed the Master Sorcerer and still had enough left in her to help with the D’engiti while I vomited from the head injury and got my feet under me. Dekar had found the other sorcerer with his robes down in the woods. That was about the only thing that went our way.

We had done it all right. I doubted that Adar, Baruch, Hayyim, Yahu, and Gal cared much about our victory though. I stared at their bodies while wavering on my feet. Their blood soaked into the ground beneath my boots. I doubted Jachin, the private I lost earlier in the day would care either. His body would get lost among all the rest and given no special acknowledgement.

I’m sure all six of them were ecstatic about our success.

My gaze rested once more on Gal’s body, where it lingered. Before breathing his last, he had managed to bring his hands up to his chest as if hoping his pendants might magically appear and save him. The man’s mismatched eyes seemed to stare back at me in a way that said “I told you so.”

That bothered me. I knew those charms wouldn’t have stopped the sword that took him in the chest, but he had believed they would. Maybe not having his charms had distracted him enough that it led to his death. One more decision I’d question until the end of my days.

“Not even hell could be this bad,” I heard Ira mutter, using the expression as originally intended.

A shiver ran down my back, punctuating the remark.

“You all right, Tyrus? You look like you’re about to throw up again,” said Hamath as he walked up. He had wrapped a makeshift bandage around his left hand. Blood seeped through where his pinky finger had once been. Sweat matted his red hair to his forehead.

“I might. But if I do, it won’t be from the head injury.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. We can talk about it later. Did you see anything with that spyglass you found?”

Hamath had climbed up the last thirty yards of the rise and tried to assess the mess of a battlefield from a better vantage.

“I saw a lot. None of it made sense. Lines from both sides are all over the place. Flags are being waved. I can’t tell if troops are being redistributed or if one side is surrendering to the other.” He paused. “Did Ava have any luck reaching anyone?”

I shook my head. Ava lay on her back, asleep on the thin, yellow grass. Burn marks adorned her arms. Her chest rose slowly with each breath. “She passed out. She needs more rest before she can try to communicate at this distance. Someone will have to contact her first.”

“So, we’re in the dark?”

“For now.”

Ava sat up, open palms going to her temples. “By the gods,” she whimpered.

I moved toward her and nearly fell as my vision spun. Hamath caught my arm and helped me over.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

She nodded violently while holding her breath and squeezing her eyes shut. Someone was communicating with her. I knelt at her side and waited. A few moments later, she let out a long breath and took several more while blinking rapidly.

“What was that?” I asked.

She swore. “Some idiot not used to communicating that way. Rather than asking me what he wanted, he bullied his way through my mind to get it. If I wasn’t so tired, I could have cut him off, but I didn’t have the energy.”

“What did he tell you?”

“I’m getting there. How’d you like it if someone was inside your head unwanted?”

I waited.

She took one last deep breath, anger fading as she processed what she had been told. “I can barely believe it.”

“Believe what?”

She looked up, face twisting in emotion. Shock. Relief. Confusion.

“The Geneshans laid down arms. All of their major sorcerers are dead or incapacitated. Their generals are already on their way to Balak’s tent to sign the king’s terms.”

I blinked. “What? That fast?”

Ava chuckled. “Yes. We won, big brother. Apparently the Master Sorcerer we killed sent a distress call to the others on the front lines. When he did, it distracted those in the field long enough for our High Mages to gain the upper hand. Also, Balak’s precautions along the western front with the seventh, eighth, and ninth regiments stopped the Geneshan counter. They say his strategy was genius.”

Hamath snorted and gave me an elbow. “That’s cause he didn’t think of it.”

Ava gave him a confused look. “What?”

“Nothing,” I said. Let Balak have the credit. “What else?”

“They’re sending a company to come retrieve us and the artifact.” She paused. “We’re going home.”

A few gasps came from the others at the news.

My mouth dropped as I sat back. The image of a beautiful woman with dark hair and chestnut skin grabbed me. She stood in the doorway of our farm crying. A young girl and a little boy tugged at her legs as she faded from sight. The sound of rolling wagon wheels filled my ears.

A tear ran down my cheek.

“You all right, big brother?” asked Ava.

I smiled. “Never better.”

I was finally going home to Lasha.

CHAPTER 3

The infirmary stank in ways no man should ever know. Blood mingled with bodily fluids it was never meant to touch. It took everything I had not to retch.

The sounds reverberating through the tents only made matters worse. Flies buzzed around wounds. Injured patients wailed at the cutters sawing away on limbs that couldn’t be saved. Curses of ‘hold still’ came from the cutters. They all added a new layer of guilt for me. My injuries seemed trivial in comparison.

One of the mages adept in healing pushed and prodded my skull. He chanted something in a strange tongue, lessening the effects of my concussion. Tears streaked down his face as he worked. His breathing came in gasps. He was one of the few sorcerers strong enough to heal people with a resistance to sorcery. As a side effect, treating me put him through tremendous pain.

My guilt increased.

“There are others who need your help more. Why don’t you see to them?” I asked.

“General Balak’s orders were to take care of you first.”

The weariness in the healer’s voice was so strongly pronounced I had to strain to hear him over all the moaning and despair. Mages skilled at healing were a rare thing, so they often suffered from severe exhaustion. After the day’s battle, they wouldn’t sleep for days. It wasn’t unheard of for a healer to die because of the toll their bodies endured while healing others.

And this poor fool got stuck with the task of healing me.

My headache continued to subside. I clenched my jaw in frustration, guilt gnawing at me even more as I watched a cutter walk by, cursing audibly. Blood bathed his leather apron. He held a saw in one hand and a severed foot in the other. He dropped the foot in a wheelbarrow with other severed limbs. Someone would be by soon to cast them into a bonfire.

Bile crept into my throat. I knocked aside the healer’s hands and rose to my feet, unsteady at first.

“I’m not finished yet,” he said.

“Close enough. I can walk on my own. Go help someone who needs it more.”

The healer gave me a faraway look that let me know he was barely there. Heavy bags under his eyes added to a sagging and tired face. I hurried out the tent as he sighed and began to stand.

I had plenty of sympathy for the wounded, but that didn’t mean I wanted to linger. The infirmary was the part of military life no one, including me, liked to think about. We faced our mortality every day on the battlefield. None of us needed to be reminded of it afterward.

Those in civilian life weren’t much better. Fairy tales described stories of heroics, maybe even a valiant death for those fighting in war. No one ever told the story of the poor cripple who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and was forced to find a new standard of “normal.”

It was night again by the time I started toward Balak’s tent. We had been stuck behind enemy lines for nearly half a day before someone picked us up. I lost one other member of my unit during that time. Omar apparently had internal injuries. He collapsed while laughing at one of Ira’s attempts at humor. Ava never even had a chance to look him over before he stopped breathing.

I tried to push my thoughts aside. It wasn’t easy.

The mood around camp changed drastically the farther from the infirmary I walked. If I hadn’t known any better I might have wondered if our army had suffered any casualties at all.

Men from all over Turine congregated around newly tapped barrels of ale. They laughed with half-full cups in hand, happy that there would be no more fighting. It didn’t matter who you were or what you looked like before joining the army, once you fought next to a man in battle, you became brothers.

I passed by the hangers-on attached to any army. Merchants near carts peddled indulgences of all types, trying to convince soldiers their coin was best spent with them. Lines twenty men deep stood in front of each cart. Victory loosened the purse of even the stingiest man, and the merchants smiled ever wider because of it.

Despite the activity at the merchant wagons, none of those lines could rival the rowdy ones waiting for the whores outside their tents. Many men wanted to celebrate the victory and release excess energy carried over from battle. Others just wanted the soft embrace of a woman after coming so close to death.

The guard outside of Balak’s tent pulled back the flap as I walked up. That was a first. Either the general was in a great mood and couldn’t wait to thank me or he needed someone’s rear to lay into and mine was his first choice. Thankfully, I didn’t see how it could be the latter.

Inside, Balak sipped from a glass of wine, looking pleased with the state of things.

“Tyrus. How’re you feeling?”

“Better, sir,” I answered as the flap closed behind me. “Congratulations on the victory. I hear your decision along the western front worked out for the best.”

He set the glass down and nodded. “It did. The Geneshans were hoping to flank us. They weren’t expecting to run into such resistance.” He grunted. “The mages are acting like the victory should be theirs though. Lazy fools finally decided to pull their weight around here and now they expect all the accolades I sweated years for.”

I chose not to respond. It was no secret that Balak and the High Mages didn’t get along. Both resented the other since they each answered to no one but the king himself.

I changed the subject. “I hear terms of peace have already been worked out.”

“Yes.” His smile returned. “Once they learned your unit had the artifact, they agreed to pretty much anything we demanded so long as we swore not to use the thing. Have you seen it?”

“No, sir. We thought it best not to open the box it was in.”

“Nothing wrong with taking a look. Here,” he said while going behind the table still adorned with maps.

He pulled out the wooden box we took from the Geneshans. It looked unimpressive. Made of oak, it held no engravings or paints.

He flipped the lid and I moved closer to peer inside.

The artifact was carved from the same wood as the box. It was ugly as sin with the body of a turtle and the head of some sort of insect with long antennae and big, round eyes. I had seen better craftsmanship from the merchants peddling their wares to our army.

BOOK: Forgotten Soldiers
11.73Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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