Forgotten Soldiers (9 page)

“Yeah. Pretty good,” he replied quickly.

I grunted, deciding not to push. Over the years Hamath had talked less and less about Bilhah. A part of me wanted to ask why. Another part respected his privacy.

The soldier stuck cooking the meal for the night carefully scooped a heaping ladle full of stew into our wooden bowls. His shirt left more than enough evidence of how many times he had hurried his efforts before—brown and yellow stains decorating the front.

I examined the bowl’s contents. A bit of onion, some potato, a piece of carrot, and even a few pieces of meat. Not bad. In fact, better than most of the meals I’d had of late. I grabbed a hard biscuit from the sack next to the stew pot and followed Hamath to a small fire. Ira and Dekar were already there, the former using his fingers to get the last bit of food out of his bowl, the latter taking his time with each spoonful.

Ira looked up at us as we took our place around the fire. “What’s the word, Ty?”

I caught a glimpse of his half-missing ear. Though it looked better than it once did, the image was not a pretty one. “Huh?”

“Where are we heading first? I saw you talking to Captain Nehab earlier. Dekar thinks it’s going to be Damanhur. I told him to get his head out his rear. It’s gotta be Edema.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why Edema?”

“Because it’s bigger and along all the major trade routes. It’s filled with all sorts of wonders, you know. I was mad we didn’t pass through there on the way to Genesha.”

I nodded to Dekar. “Why Damanhur?”

He swallowed his food. “Opposite reasons. It’s smaller, so the men are less likely to get into trouble and waste all their coin. Plus, trade routes mean nothing to us now. We’re returning home. Damanhur is a shorter distance from here too. We go to Edema, we’d add a day to our journey.”

“Dekar’s got it,” I said. “And for all the reasons he listed.”

“What?” Ira swore. “Who cares about a day when we could have all that fun?”

I gestured toward Captain Nehab. He sat with his back to a tree, out of earshot, concentrating on eating his stew without dirtying up the thick mustache dominating his face. “The captain does, and Balak put him in charge of seeing us home.” I paused. “I think it’s the right call.”

“Me too,” said Dekar.

“You would,” said Ira, giving his brother a look.

Dekar frowned. “The last thing I want to worry about is bailing you out of trouble again.”

“You act like that happens all the time.”

Dekar eyed his brother.

“All right. Fine,” said Ira, a sour look on his face. “The problem is that none of you really know how to live. Well, except maybe Hamath.”

Hamath choked. “I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment coming from you.”

Dekar chuckled at that.

Ira complained and grumbled a bit more as the rest of us finished our meals.

A few others joined us. It didn’t take long for Ira to pull out a couple decks of cards. It took even less time before most of us had doubled our money. Some might accuse us of cheating and most of the time they’d be right. But not then. The truth was that we had known each other for so long that we knew what the other person would play without even seeing the cards in their hand. If that gave us an advantage over other units not as close as ours, then so be it.

CHAPTER 5

Burned out farmhouses and blackened fields greeted us as we traveled. Here and there small shoots of grass, mostly weeds, pushed through the scorched earth. Burning a land with sorcery lengthened the time it needed to recover from a passing army.

The Geneshan Empire had set fire to their own lands in order to slow us down. The tactic began back when the war had shifted in our favor. Though the Geneshan strategy seemed cruel to the peasants, it did make supplying our forces that much more difficult.

It had been more than a year since we last passed through the area. The homesteads stood just as vacant as they had then. Landowners must have started life anew somewhere else rather than chance another army destroying their livelihood all over again.

We crossed a bridge spanning the narrowest part of the Golgoth River. I remember watching its construction after the Geneshan sorcerers blew apart the original structure in hasty retreat. Splinters of wood and broken stone had rained down over a mile in every direction. The heat from such power had boiled all of the fish alive and reduced the water level by half.

The meal the cooks came up with that night had been one for the ages.

Shortly after crossing the Golgoth River, we came across one of the bleakest reminders of war. Worse in my mind than the seared farmsteads.

A sigh passed through my lips.

“What is it?” asked Hamath.

I nodded toward a high mound of dirt a hundred paces from the side of the road. Several others varying in height and width stood near it. I knew from experience that beneath the earth lay the bones and ash of dead soldiers.

Hamath spat. “It’s a shame how we ended up mixing the bodies.”

“What do you mean?”

“Burying the Geneshans with our own.”

“Geneshan bodies bring disease just like ours. We couldn’t be prejudiced about getting rid of the things.”

“I understand the practical reasons. Just doesn’t seem right having them all intermingled like that. I can’t see that being a peaceable way for anyone to spend an eternity. Possibly staring at the man who ran you through with nothing you can do to change it.” He paused. “Makes you wonder if they’re still fighting each other in whatever afterlife they went to.”

I kept quiet. Hamath was one of those who vehemently believed in an afterlife. I had too in my youth. He and I had gone around and around on the religious discussion before. I wasn’t in the mood to do it again.

It took over a week to cross the Geneshan lands we had conquered. We traveled a few more days after that before coming upon the Turine city of Damanhur. We could have made better time, but Captain Nehab was a cautious man. He kept a slow pace in case of Geneshan holdovers hiding in the countryside who either hadn’t heard about the war ending, or simply didn’t care.

I was as antsy as anyone else to get home to my family, but I saw the wisdom in his reasoning and was quick to speak up at the night fires when men would get to grumbling about the pace.

Damanhur rose up out of flat terrain, littered with patches of thick, squat oaks. Ira was quick to remind us that the city lacked the grandeur of Edema. Low walls, barely the height of a man, encircled Damanhur. Two round watchtowers, ten feet higher than the wall, stood near the gate, the only two protecting the entire city. Those were just two of a dozen noticeable examples of the poor defensive design the city offered.

I couldn’t help but think that if the Geneshans had wanted to attack the place in the early years of the war when they held the advantage, Damanhur would have fallen in minutes. A quick glance about told me I was the only one who even cared. After more than a week on the back of a hard wagon, being jarred constantly, all anyone really wanted was a night of letting loose.

Captain Nehab managed to maintain discipline long enough to tie down the wagons on the city’s outskirts and ensure the horses were tended. Men quickly began to sneak off, and he had no choice but to just dismiss everyone. Soldiers peeled away before Nehab finished the command. He tried calling out a curfew, but no one heard it. Most people found it hard to listen with their backs turned and feet propelling them swiftly away from the person speaking.

I never did find out what time he had set for curfew.

* * *

Early in the war, my unit once received a two-day leave. One of my men took off on his own without waiting for the rest of us. I was young and thought nothing of it. The town had looked relatively peaceful, so I figured I’d let the man have a bit of time to himself. All of us needed moments of isolation lest we kill each other before ever reaching Genesha.

A few hours later a corporal had reported my man’s body hacked and slashed in an alley behind a local bar. The rest of my unit spent half the night beating information out of the patrons of the tavern until we learned what had happened. Turned out our man had a good night at dice and the loser was bitter about it. He and two friends wanted their money back. Our man refused. His stubbornness got him killed. We found the three responsible before the crack of dawn and made sure they suffered a fate to rival our mate’s. It was only the right thing to do.

Balak never came down on us despite the story making its way throughout the army. I think he agreed with the way we handled the problem, and, more importantly, understood we learned our lesson. Especially me. I only wish we could have learned it one day sooner.

After that night no one in my unit traveled in parties of less than three. So while many took off on their own into Damanhur, we four stayed together.

“Well, Tyrus, what’s on the agenda for tonight?” asked Hamath.

“I don’t know. I hadn’t given it much thought. Why don’t one of you pick something?” I said, stepping over a puddle.

Damanhur did not boast the sophisticated drainage system one might find in the larger cities of Turine. Therefore, water pooled near the curb, capturing all sorts of bugs, rotten food, and Molak knows what else.

“We always pick where we’re going,” said Ira. “It’d be nice if you showed a preference for once when we’re on leave.”

“I did once. And none of you ever let me live it down.”

Hamath spat. “We didn’t think you’d want to check out the advances in plow design at the local blacksmith.”

Ira snorted. “That Ty sure knows how to have fun.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice.

“And yet you want me to choose again.”

“Thought you might do better this time.”

“Doubtful. Farming is still in my blood. Why don’t you ever ask Dekar for his opinion?”

Ira laughed louder. “He’s worse than you. We’d probably end up at some local merchant’s stand looking through books or something.”

Dekar shrugged.

I sighed. “Just pick the whorehouse that best suits your interest since I know that’s what you and Hamath want anyway. My only stipulation is that it has to have a decent tavern attached so Dekar and I have something to do to pass the time.”

“Why Ty,” said Ira, exaggerating his words. “that sounds like a marvelous idea.” He wore a big smile. “Don’t you agree, Hamath?”

“I do agree,” Hamath said, mimicking Ira’s tone. “I wish I had thought of it myself actually. I guess that’s why he’s Sergeant and not us.”

I rolled my eyes, refusing to encourage them.

Hamath and Ira took the lead as we continued our trek, looking for the ideal place to spend their coin.

Damanhur wasn’t as large as some of the cities near the center of Turine, or as grand as Hol or Edema in its majesty. However, it did dwarf my hometown in both size and appearance. Denu Creek boasted over a hundred people if you included those who made their home in the land around it which most people did.

The largest building in Denu Creek was the house on a plantation owned by the Jareb family, an eclectic bunch who had named every one of their first sons Jareb for as far back as anyone could remember. The family boasted many things that others could not. Originality wasn’t among them.

The Jareb nearest my age had been a real piece of work growing up. He made life miserable for Ava until her talents manifested. That got him off her back fast. Most everyone in town saw the younger Jareb through the reputation of his father who had a heart of gold. Just goes to prove the saying ‘like father, like son’ isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be.

In Damanhur, the largest building, a circular tower, made the Jareb plantation look like a butcher’s shop. It stood at the town’s center, seven stories high, and housed the City Watch. Seeing that the artisans were capable of constructing something of substantial size made me wonder even more why the local government hadn’t employed those same workers to raise the height of the city’s walls.

I guess our army’s relative success over the last couple of years made them feel safe enough.

Inns three and four stories high took up residence near the tower. I imagined it was pretty convenient to have the watch next door whenever rowdy customers refused to pay their bills or start trouble.

Ira and Hamath passed the inns without a second look. None of the places they sought would be located so close to the watch.

Though every city, town, and hamlet boasted whorehouses of their own, most residents liked to pretend they didn’t exist. These were the same citizens who hated to admit that the bulk of their community’s taxes came from those same appalling establishments, without which they wouldn’t have the funds necessary to keep the town running.

I had seen a similar attitude before in a town bordering Denu Creek.

Ifrane had been experiencing a major population influx, growing at an unheard of rate in the area I’m from. Most linked the surge in growth to the quality of women brought in from foreign lands to populate their bathhouses. The exotic nature of such women made the town attractive to many young men from the surrounding areas.

Things were looking up for Ifrane until a priest of Quan showed up.