Forgotten Soldiers (Book 1)

by Joshua P. Simon

  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.

  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.