Forgotten Soldiers (Book 1)

by Joshua P. Simon

* * *

  Many of our group had lucked out.

  Unfortunately, some others had not.

  Our attackers had overlooked the captain and our wagons. Hamath made it back in time to warn Nehab. By the time they rode out of the city, the first few returning soldiers left with them.

  The captain pulled the wagons off the road into an apple orchard near the lake a few miles outside of the city. Hamath stayed by the road to direct survivors.

  Men had escaped Damanhur any way they could. Most jumped over the city’s obscenely low wall as we had.

  Dekar, Ira, and I were among the last group to arrive—bruised, tired, and exhausted.

  When all was said and done, we lost twelve men. Ten more were seriously injured. I tried to take solace in the fact that Dekar, Ira, Hamath, and I had killed well over a dozen citizens of Damanhur alone. Based on the reports of others, we gave a lot worse than we got.

  The unevenness in casualties was a small consolation though.

  The night was supposed to be one of fun and merriment, a chance to relax after years in service and over a week of monotonous travel. I had even expected to receive some appreciation for our service in the war. It ended up being more of what many of us had hoped to never see again. We wanted a celebration and got a massacre.

  Some in our meager group, now roughly forty men, wanted to reform and go on the offensive.

  “How dare they do this to us!” someone shouted. “Don’t they realize what we did for them?”

  Others expressed similar sentiments. With blood racing, I even found myself siding with the mob of angry veterans, but thankfully, cooler heads prevailed.

  Nehab attempted to calm us all down before we did something stupid. “Everyone shut up! I know you’re mad. By the gods, I’m mad too. We lost good men tonight, and I don’t want to lose anymore. I’ve got a wife waiting for me. Some of you have that and more. Do you want to die here and now on Turine soil by your own countrymen when home is closer than it has been in years? I sure don’t.”

  “So they’re going to get away with what they did to us?” someone asked.

  “Considering how many everyone said they killed, I’d hardly say we’re letting them get away with anything,” said Nehab. “But no, I’m not just dropping what happened tonight if that’s what you mean. I’ll get word to Balak and let him know what’s going on. He’ll pass it on to the king. Let him take care of it. We need to worry about getting home. Ain’t that right, Sergeant?”

  I blinked from my angry daze as I realized Nehab was addressing me. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Hamath set up a perimeter and watch. Everyone else get to sleep. We’re leaving at first light tomorrow.”

  People started to shuffle off. I was ready to do the same until Nehab called out. “Sergeant, a moment.”

  I walked to him. “Yes, sir.”

  “You all right?”

  I rubbed the shallow wound at my collarbone. “I will be. Pretty ugly back there. But I’m fine now.”

  “I understand.” He walked me toward the injured. “I need you to take a look at someone. It’s Lieutenant Teyman.”

  “I’m not any sort of a healer.”

  “I know. But he had a run-in with a minor mage and we can’t get his wound cleaned out.”

  “I see.”

  A benefit of my resistance to sorcery was that it not only protected me from spells cast by mages, but it also allowed me to draw away sorcery as well.

  Lieutenant Teyman lay on his back with hands around a black wound on his side that oozed a green pus that stank like a dead possum rotting in a ditch. The private trying to clean the wound kept gagging into his arm as he wiped away the infection. Teyman didn’t cry out, but the pain was evident on his wrinkled face each time the private touched his skin.

  Nehab cleared his throat. “Private, step back a moment and let Tyrus take a look.”

  I kneeled at Teyman’s side. Too busy trying to manage the pain, he didn’t even notice.

  I placed my hand over the wound. As I made contact, I felt a slight vibration. I never had to do much for my resistance to work.

  Teyman began to relax as the green ooze disappeared and the wound went from black to red. Thankfully, the smell dissipated as well.

  I moved away quickly so the private could dress the wound.

  Teyman opened his eyes and whispered. “Thanks.”

  I went to sleep that night imagining I heard the Damanhur citizens cheering our departure in the way everyone thought they would cheer our arrival. Returning heroes? Not to them. I recalled the words of the idiot I fought in the bar. They probably blamed us for what happened even though they were the ones responsible.

  Attacked by our own countrymen.

  I never expected to deal with that.

  CHAPTER 6

  We hit the road early the next morning. Nehab wanted to put as much distance between us and Damanhur as possible, worried the mob might experience another burst of motivation in the light of day. Thankfully, the worst battles we fought were against our own bewilderment, exhaustion, and moroseness.

  We set up camp that night just past dusk. Everyone looked like death and moved like it too. If a man wasn’t still nursing a bad hangover, he was tending to the injuries he had picked up during his escape. Most soldiers, including myself, did both.

  I cleaned up the scrapes I earned after choking down, and keeping down, the stew of the evening. Others did the same. The mood around the campfires had changed drastically.

  Conversations that had dripped with optimism and anticipation were filled with dread, uncertainty, and even fear. Many wondered if their hometowns would match that of Damanhur. I didn’t really share their worry. I knew the people of Denu Creek too well. The community was too close-knit for them to act that way.

  I left our fire and maneuvered through camp toward Captain Nehab. He sat with bent knees, back against a large rock. He stroked his thick mustache while looking over a map of Turine.

  He glanced up as I approached.

  “Sergeant.”

  “Captain.”

  “Have a seat.”

  I took a spot next to him.

  “You have any idea what caused that mess back there?” he asked. “I’ve heard so many varying stories that I can’t make sense of what’s real and what’s not.”

  I told him what little information I managed to gather from the man at the bar.

  He muttered a few curses. “Heck of a way to show their thanks, isn’t it? Without the army’s efforts, we’d be paying tribute to the Geneshans right now and dealing with that madman of an emperor they have.” He grunted. “Who knows? We might have even been forced into learning the language. That’s what happened to the other nations they conquered before they came after us.”

  “If you’re looking for me to make sense of it, sir, I’m afraid I can’t help you. I don’t understand it either.”

  He sighed. “I know. I need to get that message back to General Balak about what happened so he can give the next groups passing through ample warning. Just wanted to run through everything with you first.”

  “You think this was a one-time deal or is every town going to be Damanhur all over?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine, Sergeant. That being said, I’m not taking any chances. We have enough supplies to avoid any cities for a while. Plus, we won’t reach anyone’s home for at least a week. No reason not to just stay to ourselves.”

  I nodded. “Makes sense.”

  He sighed. “It’s getting late, Sergeant. Go get some rest. I’ve still got a letter to write.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I went back to my unit’s fire.

  After a quick search through my things, I pulled out a bundle of letters tied with a piece of old twine. I removed the twine, unfolded the top letter, and began reading. I had long ago memorized all the letters Lasha had sent me over the years, but I still liked to read them in her own hand from time to time. Something about it allowed me to hear her voice
in my head. It was like she sat next to me, leaning on my shoulder.

  My beloved Tyrus,

  There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wish I was at your side and you at mine. Even under present circumstances, I’d brave whatever the enemy offered if it meant I could see you again. To say I miss you dearly is an understatement. I say this not to bring you down, but instead to give you reassurance that I love you even more today than I did when you rode away in that wagon five years ago.

  We will be together soon. I can feel it.

  And when you return, be prepared for the best night of your life.

  I leaned back and sighed. Gods, that was five years ago. “So much for a woman’s intuition,” I muttered under my breath.

  Shaking my head, I returned to the letter.

  Anyway, enough with the romantic stuff. I know you were never as fond of it as I am. Let me tell you what Zadok got into just the other day . . .

  Oddly enough, the romantic stuff I was never fond of is what I went back to the most. The assurance of Lasha’s passion and love brought me joy on even the darkest of days. After the upheaval at Damanhur, I needed a little more joy than usual so I skipped to the next letter and focused on the romantic stuff there as well.

  After the last letter, I retied the bundle and leaned back once more. Heavy in thought, my mind eventually drifted from Lasha and the kids to Ava. I wondered what my sister was up to. Based on my last conversation with Balak, I hoped she was at least keeping an eye on the High Mages from doing something stupid with the Geneshan artifact.

  Regardless, her presence in Damanhur would have been a big help to us. Still, a part of me felt that she had made the right decision.

  As a mage, she had always felt like an outsider in Denu Creek.

  I sighed. Maybe in Hol she’d find her place in the world.

  CHAPTER 7

  Just three days later, the well maintained roads we had been traveling turned into old, beat up paths.

  We came across a priest of Molak with warm brown eyes and a smile that shown bright under the overcast sky. Due to his wrinkled forehead and graying hair, I guessed him somewhere around his mid-fifties. Tattered at the hem, his red robes had faded to a light pink. Many of the symbols usually adorning the front and back were faint outlines that I only saw by squinting.

  Under normal circumstances, Captain Nehab would be the one in charge of addressing the wayside traveler. However, the captain was still anxious about Damanhur and had taken a small squad of five men to scout our back trail. I didn’t expect him to return for hours. Command fell to me.

  “This isn’t exactly the safest road to travel, old-timer,” I called out as we slowed our approach.

  The priest’s smile faltered at my lack of the proper address to someone of his station. If Hamath had been nearby, he probably would have jabbed me with an elbow for the casual attitude I used with the priest. Nehab had taken him though.

  The priest recovered quickly. His smile returned. “Yet you travel the same road.”

  “We have many to watch each other’s backs. You don’t.”

  “I need only Molak to look after me.”

  I grunted as I gestured for the driver of the wagon to stop beside him. “Is that so?”

  He nodded.

  “Might I ask where Molak was when the bandits attacked you?”

  He frowned. “How do you know bandits attacked me?”

  “Well, I don’t see any supplies nearby.” I pointed. “Not even the pouch at your waist where Molak’s servants usually keep their ceremonial dust for blessings. Plus, it looks like you’re favoring your right side like something or someone hit you.”

  “You have me there.” He began to chuckle, which, in spite of his chosen profession, put him on my good side. “Perhaps Molak was tending to more important matters.”

  “Perhaps. Where you heading?”

  “Nowhere in particular. Wherever life takes me.”

  “Well, life is taking us that way,” I said gesturing down the road. “There’s room in the back of the wagon and a warm meal if you’re interested in riding with us at least through tonight. My captain will have to decide how much further we extend hospitality.”

  “Considering my current situation, I’d be a fool to say no.”

  It was my turn to grin as I threw back a thumb. “Hop on then. My name’s Tyrus.”

  He bowed. “You can call me, Kehat.”

  * * *

  By the end of the day I had begun to regret my goodwill toward Kehat.

  I had known many of the men worshipped Molak. What I hadn’t realized was how starved they were to renew that faith.

  During the war, men would say a prayer or mutter a curse to the gods as needed. However, few really devoted themselves to their chosen deity as there was little time for all the pomp and circumstance needed to do it properly. Balak allowed priests to come and go so long as they didn’t get in the way of men doing their jobs. Therefore, few men spent much time talking to priests.

  I guessed after Damanhur, some of the men felt like their half-hearted efforts in worshipping the father of the gods had caused Molak to abandon them at a time when all was supposed to be well. They figured that by taking advantage of this golden opportunity with Kehat, Molak might get off his rear and throw them a hand out.

  I doubted Molak would do anything. He sure seemed stingy with the blessings during the last decade when hundreds of thousands of men lost their lives on the Turine side alone. It seemed that Molak would have been a bit understanding of his followers’ inability to properly worship since they were busy trying to block the swords coming at their throats.

  Regardless, Kehat had the men chanting prayers and singing hymns as we set up camp. Even quiet Dekar joined in. We were so far away from any major form of civilization, I decided to let the men go at it and get it out their systems. From the looks of things, they all needed it.

  I, on the other hand, did my best to block out the dozens of songs I remembered from my youth, lest I accidently slip into a chorus myself. That was no easy thing. Several times I caught my lips silently repeating the refrain of a specific prayer on their own accord.

  Comfortable the work was getting done, and filled to the brim with the carryings on, I placed Dekar in charge, and went to the outskirts of camp to get away. Thinking about Lasha and the kids helped clear my mind.

  Some say that religion was infectious. They may have been right, but it was a disease I had no wish to catch.

  * * *

  Captain Nehab returned just after camp was set. I knew this only because the singing came to an abrupt halt. I heeled and toed it back to camp to greet him but he was already walking toward me.

  “Sorry, sir. Didn’t mean to be disrespectful. I was farther out than I thought.”

  “No problem, Sergeant. We can stay out here. Hamath told me about your aversion to all things religious. I don’t have quite as strong of feelings as you, but I’m no disciple either. How have you been killing time?”

  “Just thinking. Mostly about my sister now. Wondering how she’s doing with her studies under the High Mages of Hol. She never got along with them before. Put one in the infirmary about four years ago when he tried to belittle her in front of several others because she was only classed as a squad mage under my unit.”

  He chuckled. “I remember that. Your sister has a unique personality.”

  I grinned. “That she does. Hopefully, it’s not getting her in trouble. Especially since I know she wanted to be a part of looking over that Geneshan artifact.”

  He grunted. “Well, I hope looking is all the Council of High Mages is doing. Balak told me what the Geneshans think the artifact is capable of. I’ve dealt with enough misery and chaos in the war. I don’t need that stuff following me home.”

  “I hear you, sir.”

  The singing started back up, and I shook my head. “So, how’d it go today?”

  We started walking.

  “Well enough. No one seems
to be following us, which is what we suspected. We came across a small town off the main road. Heaven’s Way. Ever heard of it?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Me either. For something with heaven in the name, it sure was a dump. Maybe eighty people or so. I kept the men back and entered on my own after removing all signs of the army about me. Just to get a feel of things.”

  “And?”

  “Not great, but not awful either. They hadn’t heard of Damanhur yet, thankfully. But I’m sure they will soon enough. Regardless, the sentiment seems mixed. Most of the general populace doesn’t hold the army in high regard. Lots of stories circulating about the war. Some false, some true, some exaggerations of the truth. Those who seemed to be more supportive of the war or at least indifferent to it were around, but outnumbered in their opinion.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “Hard to say, and I couldn’t press without being suspicious.”

  “So, what are your orders?”

  “Keep doing what we’ve been doing. Avoid people as best as we can until it’s time to start dropping people off at their homes.”

  “And what do we do if things are just as bad at those places?”

  He sucked his teeth. “I really don’t know. That will be up to the individual to decide. Stay, or move on to a place where they’ll be welcomed.”

  “The thought of returning home is the only thing that has kept most of them alive all these years. To not be welcomed there, well . . .”

  He sighed. “Yeah. I know.”

  The singing got really loud just then. We both turned our heads.

  “Sorry, sir. I may not be religious, but the priest looked pretty bad off.”

  He patted me on the shoulder. “No worries, Sergeant. I would have done the same. And if nothing else it seems the men needed him just as much as the priest needed a meal and a ride. We’ll let him stay with us for a bit. When we part, we’ll give him some supplies to take with him.”

  I nodded.

  “And, Tyrus.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Let’s not mention what I said about that town to the others just yet. No reason to bring them down again.”